


Save that Heart for Me

by clarkespastlife



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AI AU, Angst, Canon Divergence, Clexa, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Polis, Post Season 2, Reincarnation, Sex, Soulmate AU, The 100 - Freeform, Worldbuilding, heda backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3743017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkespastlife/pseuds/clarkespastlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke wanders aimlessly until she stumbles on a cabin in the woods and learns her destiny is to be with Lexa, despite the betrayal. She relives her past lives and finds herself in the middle of political intrigue.</p><p> Sample text:</p><p>“There's so many people out there...” she mused, leaning forward slightly.</p><p>Warm, tanned arms wrapped around her waist. “Its a monumental occasion for them. And for us,” Aliyah purred, nipping her neck, “This is the first life where we will be formally joined.”</p><p>Chaya sighed contentedly. “I know. I couldn't be happier, really.” She turned and faced the other woman, feeling her heart beat faster as she looked in Aliyah's green eyes. Her stomach did a flip, but she had something to say before the ceremony took place. “But I'm afraid this life will end like all the others,” she whispered.</p><p>Aliyah frowned. “I hope not. I have killed you and seen you die enough already,” she said, brushing her hands through the blonde's fine hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Girl you know you're my destiny

**Author's Note:**

> I just made up all the ideas about grounder culture in this story. It contains two women having sex and dealing with a rough relationship.  
> It also includes violence, a little bit of science, and a little bit of Grounder mysticism.  
> Comments are always welcome! Enjoy!

She just followed her feet. Everywhere, anywhere.

She was empty and broken, lost to those she loved.

She went to the Dropship, felt the crunch of bones beneath her feet. 300 burned souls.

She went outside the fence, to where Wells and the other casualties of the 100 lay. 56 children's souls.

She went to the bunker...the bunker where she and Finn had truly connected. But it reeked of death, and the pencils and paper she took felt like paper thin skin. The dead grounder's soul and the 18 villagers Finn murdered because of her. Finn's blood on her hands. 20 souls.

She didn't go near Ton DC. She didn’t ever want to go there again. 250 souls under the rubble.

She saw Mt. Weather looming through the treeline. Remembered the burned faces. 320 innocent souls.

She had almost a thousand deaths weighing her down.

 

*************

 

The weather began to get cold. Clarke embraced it, refused to seek shelter. It felt fitting. A leader had to be cold. A little torture to her body was nothing compared to the suffering she had caused.

She drew, but it wasn’t trees anymore. It was the faces of those she killed. Bones and blood, and levers with two hands hovering over them. And somehow, Lexa. Her face, the symbol on her forehead, her eyes rimmed in black. Clarke scribbled them out.

She walked north. Weeks passed, she didn't care to know how long. Some days, she just felt so tired. She lay on the ground shivering and refused to get up. At night she would light a fire and stare into the flames. She barely ate, or she gorged herself on late summer berries.

She dreamed fitfully of endless forests and soft hands, fire, smoke, and long brown hair.

She felt like her heart had turned to stone and it was so, so heavy.

One day she wandered into a clearing. She was lightheaded, having not eaten in over 5 days. She thought she imagined the hut in the clearing. It was like a painting. Like the coziest, most beautiful place she could imagine. There was even a fence around it with a little garden. Clarke fell to her knees and cried when she saw it. Finally, the tears poured out. Her chest felt lighter.

Was she dead? Surely she was imagining a beautiful place before she left this world.

She passed out.

 

*************

 

When she woke, it was dark, but a fire was burning nearby. A voice was singing softly in a language she couldn’t understand. She was warm, so warm, and so comfortable. But so hungry, so thirsty. She groaned quietly and tried to sit up.

“No, no, lay down. Be still,” said a female voice, as footsteps hurried to her bedside. A kindly face with laugh lines embedded in it loomed over her. Braids of long black hair touched with silver hung in her vision. The rim of a water skin was pressed to her lips and she drank greedily until it was taken away.

“Where am I? Who are you?” she managed to choke out, her voice sounding broken. She hadn't spoken aloud in over a month.

Her rescuer smiled. “I am Mauna. You have wandered to the house of the woods witch, child.” The woman paused and looked quizzical as she put the cap on the water skin. “But the important thing is, who are you?”

A pause filled the room.

“Clarke,” she whispered. She pulled the blanket to her and balled her fists. “A monster.”

Mauna laughed. “Hardly. You have no fangs or fur. You appear to be nothing more than a half starved girl. The woods will age you that way.”

Clarke didn't say anything, not sure if her voice would even come out properly. After a moment, Mauna got up and began fiddling with something on a nearby table. Clarke assessed her surroundings.

The hut had a low ceiling made of carefully placed boards. Dried flowers, herbs, animal skins, and bones hung from the beams. The floor was hard packed dirt, well worn by dirty feet. There was a door past the foot of the cot she was laying on. A fireplace with a stone chimney was next to the door, with a heavy metal pot hanging over it. There was a window and door behind her headboard, and though it was dark, she was sure it was the front door of the house. Along the far wall to her left, a bookshelf housed bottles, bits of paper, and leather bound books of all sizes. Beside it was a cabinet of some sort with a wooden carving of a tree on its doors. A table dominated the middle of the room, piled with feathers, books, papers, bits of metal and glass, and a number of other objects. A wooden chair and a small table were beside her bed. A rocking chair was beside the fire.

Clarke shook her head and took another drink from the water skin Mauna had left on her lap. This was so strange, she thought it must surely be a dream. The woman had called herself a woods witch. _What did that mean?_ Clarke wondered if the woman was dangerous. She decided she was probably safe when Mauna offered her a strip of dried meat and a hard piece of bread on an earthen plate.

“Eat this,” Mauna said.

Clarke did so, her eyes fixed on the other woman's face.

“I can see the questions in your eyes, Clarke. Perhaps while you eat I can answer some of them?”

Clarke nodded, chewing on her bread and savoring the sweet taste of it. She didn't realize food could actually make her feel better, but this place seemed to make her feel relaxed for the first time since she came to the ground.

Mauna smiled and continued, “You are of the Sky People, so perhaps you don't know who I am. You are about a day from our capitol, and my hut is well known to all. I am the only Mauna, and that is both my title and my name. I serve an important function in our culture. I predict the future, help decide who among us will be leaders, assess the spirit of each warrior, and help people find their soul mates.”

Clarke didn't realize she had stopped eating and was staring with her mouth open. She snapped it shut and swallowed. This woman was some kind of shaman for the grounders, and obviously a healer by the herbs and vials of what looked like medicine. But soul mates? When Lexa had mentioned her people's belief in reincarnation, Clarke had nearly scoffed at the notion. On the Ark, science, technology, and reason were the most important things they were taught, along with history and the laws. They didn't exactly have a religion or belief system, just a mixture of ideas from each nation the Ark was made up of. The only thing they had all agreed on was that one day they would return to the ground.

Clarke knew the ground was no Utopia. And she didn't believe her soul was allowed to be happy ever again, if there was anyone meant for her.

Mauna reached down and pulled out Clarke's pack from under the cot. “You passed out in my front yard yesterday afternoon. I brought your things in with you, but you should probably rest here for a while. You've wandered quite far. Its been a month since we heard the news of the girl who defeated Mount Weather.”

Clarke frowned, suddenly angry at the mention of the one place she wanted to forget.

“How?” she managed to say.

“The _Trigedakru_ watched your people leave the mountain alive, but no one followed. Our _Heda_ met with the _Skaikru_ leaders and negotiated a new treaty. It seems your people now occupy the mountain, and they had a funeral burning for the fallen Mountain Men. _Jus drein, jus daun_.”

Clarke is crying again and she can't control it. So many thoughts swirl through her head. Her people are safe, sheltered from the cold months. She knew her mom and Bellamy could do what needed to be done without her. They don't have to worry about being attacked. Lexa made a treaty after all...Clarke suddenly wished she had been there to form a new alliance. But she was only a day from Polis. She could see Lexa. Talk with her. Get answers about what happened. Lexa would understand. Just like Clarke understood why she betrayed them all at the last moment. _I bear it so they don't have to_ , she reminded herself. Was the Commander's heart as heavy as her own? Clarke wondered if Lexa would still want her...and if sharing their burden of blood would somehow make it easier to carry.

She fell asleep as the fire burned low and Mauna disappeared into the other room. She dreamed of fields of flowers and war paint amongst green eyes.

 

*************

 

Clarke slept for three days, slipping in and out of consciousness. For her part, Mauna didn't speak much, just gave her bowls of broth, bits of meat, and bread. At one point Clarke was sure she heard the sound of horses' hooves outside, followed by gruff voices. But the days blurred together and she just slept.

On the fourth day, Clarke managed to convince herself to get up. She lay there in the early hours of morning debating on whether she ever wanted to get up again. Sometimes the ghosts in her head screamed she deserved to die and she just didn't want to move.

Mauna was outside when Clarke peeled the covers back, the thick furs musty from her sweat and how long she had laid there. She swung her legs over the left side of the cot and felt her feet hit the cold dirt floor. She pushed herself up, grabbing onto the chair by her bed for support. She walked to the table, her legs feeling like jelly. She looked at all the seemingly random objects on the table. A book was open nearby and she pulled it to her, brushing feathers out of the way curiously.

The book showed two shadowy figures intertwined at the feet. Their arms were held to each other and they seemed to be looking into each other's eyes. With some surprise, Clarke realized both figures were female. There was writing in the book she couldn't read, of course, but Clarke got the impression it was about bonding of some kind. As she flipped through the pages, she saw portraits of faces she didn't know, until she got to the middle of the book.

The picture that filled the page was unmistakeably Lexa. She looked so young and vulnerable in the portrait that Clarke wondered if it was drawn a few years before. She ran her fingers softly over the jaw of the girl she had come to care about, the pain in her chest returning tenfold. There was more writing at the bottom of the page, and Clarke turned the leaves over, expecting more writing. She gasped, dropping the book back onto the table. Her own face stared back at her, right beside a picture of a girl she didn't recognize. The girl had lighter hair than some of the other grounders Clarke had seen. She had a heart shaped face and long eyelashes. Her hair was carefully braided and she had a soft smile. Like all the other portraits, she had the symbol of the Commander in the middle of her forehead, a matching one to the metal object Lexa always wore in battle. “What the...” Clarke murmured to herself.

Just then, Mauna came in the door, carrying an armload of fall squash and a huge pumpkin. As she closed the door with her hip, Clarke rounded on her, holding the book.

"What is this?" She burst out.

Mauna froze for a second in surprise and then grinned. "I'm glad you're up. I wondered when you'd find that," she said calmly as she set the vegetables on the table.

"That's all you have to say?" Clarke asked, hotly.

"You were meant to find it, Clarke. That book is the book of _Heda_ 's past lives, and those of her soulmate," Mauna said calmly.

Clarke looked down at the book.

“Then why the hell am I in here? Huh?” She advanced on Mauna, holding the book up, her legs no longer wobbly. “Who drew me and why am I in this book?”

Mauna did not flinch, simply walked to the rocking chair by the fire and sat. “Pull up the other chair, Clarke. We have much to discuss,” Mauna said.


	2. History of Heda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mauna tells Clarke about Heda's past lives, but betrayal is the name of the game.

Mauna puttered around making tea and Clarke pulled up the chair from beside the cot. Confusion and surprise plagued her as she held the book, flipping through the pages. Mauna sat down, passing Clarke a hot cup. The older woman settled into the rocking chair, a knitted blanket on her lap. She blew on her tea to cool it down, her eyes never leaving Clarke's face.

“If this book is about the past lives of the Commanders, and I'm in here...I'm assuming you believe I'm Lexa's soulmate?”

“What do you think?” Mauna said with that infuriating smile. Clarke was starting to think she was seriously out of her mind.

“I think you got a picture of me from somewhere,” Clarke deadpanned.

“Actually I didn't. _Heda_ came here a few weeks ago, with a picture of the both of you. She told me about the dreams she had and how she met you.”

Clarke's stomach flipped. _Lexa knew about this all along?_

“You're kidding, right? I'm not even one of your people. How could that be?”

Mauna tilted her head slightly and said, “It is a curious circumstance, to be sure. We are still not resolved on exactly how it happened. But I believe, as does _Heda_ , that somehow the soul of her previous _keryon houmon_...that her soul's spouse, went to the sky.”

Clarke stared at the book in disbelief. She turned several leaves back. Two faces she didn’t recognize stared at her from the pages. The one on the right was sketchy, as though the artist wasn't sure what the person looked like. “These are all the previous Commanders?” she wondered, curious now why the faces seemed familiar the more she looked. She flipped back to the beginning of the book.

Mauna sipped her tea and began her story.

“The first _Heda_ emerged from the ashes after the bombs were dropped. Thousands of souls perished in the days of fire and black rain. Legend has it that in the old world, the first _Heda_ was a sailor on a great ship. She arrived in the ruins of what is now Polis and took charge of a group of people. Her name was Alina and she was a leader who united what we now know as the _Trigedakru_.”

Clarke looked at the picture of Alina carefully. She had dark skin and lighter eyes that held intelligence and strength. In the picture, she wore her hair in tight braids pulled behind her head in a bun. She had a strong jaw and lips that seemed to be in a perpetual frown.

“She looks fierce,” was all Clarke could say.

Mauna sipped her tea and smiled. “The _Heda_ spirit always is. She seems the share certain traits in each of her reincarnations. Green eyes and dark hair, for example. She is usually slight of body but quick on her feet. She is intelligent in strategy and quick to make decisions. Her _keryon houmon,_ her soulmate, is usually very similar in each life as well. She possesses lighter hair and blue eyes, no matter which tribe she is from. She is often shorter and of medium build. She is usually gentler, and has more skill in politics and healing than in fighting.”

Clarke started at that. _Why does that sound like me?_ she wondered.

Mauna hesitated for a short time, as if she was not sure she should reveal more. She pursed her lips and stated, “She has also betrayed her _Heda_ in almost all five reincarnations.”

Clarke looked up abruptly. “What?”

“It seems to be a common pattern their souls play out in each life. I have spent much time analyzing the stories,” Mauna replied defensively.

Clarke stood up, holding the book out. “Then I'm not your girl. I never betrayed Lexa, I would _never_ take the deal she took. I wouldn't leave her people to die in a mountain alone! I'm not her-her...ker-keron whatever,” Clarke argued angrily.

“Sit down Clarke, you are starting to test my patience,” Mauna said with a frown, “Drink your tea. There is more to this than you know.”

Clarke shook her head and opened the book again as she sat down, holding the earthenware teacup carefully to avoid burning herself. She took a sip that scorched her tongue. So many questions bounced around her head.

“So who was the first soulmate?” she decided to ask. The story, she admitted, was interesting. Even if it was pure hearsay. No one could prove these people were what they believed...

_Could they?_

“The first _keryon houmon_ was the leader of an opposing _kru_. Her name was Cassandra and she was a former healer who became leader of a close knit group much smaller than Alina's. They came from the north, over the frozen wastelands. The two women met on the field of battle after several small raids that resulted in death on both sides,” Mauna drawled. “The story says that there was a stand off that lasted three days. When Alina and Cassandra emerged from their war tent, they had come to an agreement about a treaty. It was no secret they were lovers shortly thereafter, and both groups were prosperous for several months. One day while out riding, they were ambushed by Mountain Men. Even then, it was well known that a group of soldiers, politicians, and their families had holed up in Mount Weather before the bombs fell. They captured Cassandra and tortured her. They told her that they had seen her through their cameras and offered her a way to save both her people and her beloved's from more bombs. They wanted all the guns on the outside of the mountain to be surrendered. Of course Cassandra scoffed, because guns were what they had been using to hunt and fight. The Mountain Men set her free so she could find her _Heda_ and gather the guns to surrender within three days. She found Alina wounded where they had been captured and they returned to their camp to figure out a plan. Of course _Heda_ knew that giving up their guns was not a good option for them, so she proposed they stash the weapons somewhere where the Mountain Men couldn't find them. In the dead of night they moved them to an underground location. They spent the next three days making spears and knives.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “So your people once did have guns...wait, they didn't happen to put those guns in a bunker near where our Dropship landed, did they?” she inquired.

“Well, that would seem to be the case,” Mauna said with some amusement at the coincidence. “Your people seem to have made use of them. That is why the _Trigedakru_ were worried about your _Skaikru_ using them. None of us have picked up a weapon like that since the day Cassandra turned Alina over to the Mountain Men rather than tell them the location of the guns,” Mauna concluded.

“She did what?” Clarke said in surprise. “But...why? Why would she betray the person she loved?”

“They agreed to it. The guns were important, and the two leaders alone knew the underground location. They decided they would let the Mountain Men think they had won, then return and destroy the mountain when they could find a way in. The weapon stash location was forgotten, however, when Cassandra was killed a few days later by her lover's people. They were furious that she had forced them to give up their weapons and were betrayed,” Mauna concluded.

“I can't blame them for that,” Clarke stated darkly.

“As I said, betrayal seems to have followed the _Hedas_ throughout time. The second pair emerged some years later. They were childhood friends living in the village of TonDC. They began to restore and build up Polis as a central location to defend against other groups. They ruled in relative peace and created the system of Firsts and Seconds to train younger warriors. They collected books to preserve English as the warrior language. But they were betrayed by the Boat People when trade agreements were not upheld,” Mauna said, sipping her tea.

Clarke did the same, noting the bittersweet flavor that lingered on her tongue now that it was cooler.

Clarke looked at the drawings of the second pair. They were still fierce, but they seemed more relaxed as well. She turned the page to the third pair and noticed something.

“The first two didn't have that symbol that Lexa has. Where did it come from?” Clarke asked, looking to Mauna for answers and pointing at the drawings.

The older woman smiled mysteriously. “That's very observant of you, Clarke,” she said, “both metal objects were a bonding gift from the first Mauna. She was a scientist, inventor, and healer who gained favor with the third pair and was granted her title in return for discovering the soulmate test that helped them find each other.”

Clarke blinked in confusion. “Wait...you’re saying there's a actually a test? One that tells you who your soulmate is? No way,” she said.

“There is, and its the most important process our children go through. One's past lives determine the future of this life,” Mauna replied, as she stood up and went to the cabinet beside the bookshelf. She returned to the rocking chair, holding a strange metal object that looked like a cross between a tazer, a headband, and a hairbrush. Clarke looked at the scary contraption with some suspicion.

“ _That_ is your test?” she scoffed with a nervous laugh.

Mauna frowned. “Not all of it. It is a complex process all of our children take their tenth year. It opens up the pathways of the brain and soul, allowing you to remember some details from your past lives.”

Clarke was starting to feel uncomfortable. Her stomach felt like lead. She began to wonder if this was not just a common belief. She flipped to the fourth pairing and her mouth went dry. The pages began to blur as her eyes slid in an out of focus. She blinked at the page several times and took a deep breath.

“Why is the fourth pair different?” she asked shakily, looking at the sketches.

“They did not meet,” Mauna said sadly, still holding the metal contraption. “I was Second to the fourth _Heda_. She went mad with grief when she had a dream her beloved was wandering the desert, alone and outcast because of a deformity. _Heda_ saw her intended in visions and dreams when she chewed a certain plant root. She tried to convince her people not to outcast deformed people anymore, and claimed a place called City of Light was our salvation. She raved for days to anyone nearby. I could not stop her when she had her guards spirit her away in the middle of the night,” Mauna continued, rushing through the story with flushed cheeks. “She jumped off a cliff after weeks of saying she wanted to fly to her _keryon houmon's_ side. I loved her so much, but I was not her intended,” Mauna choked as she began to cry. “It should have been me, I did anything she wanted, always!”

Clarke's vision blurred as she slumped forward in her chair, her head spinning. “That tea...” Clarke managed, “What...”

Her world went black and she could feel her skin prickling with sweat. Her head tingled and suddenly, she felt light as air. The ache in her chest, the weight of all her souls, became lighter.

Clarke found herself looking at the cabin from a different perspective. Her blonde hair was spread around her on the ground as Mauna held the metal contraption to her temples. It was wrapped around her head down to the base of her neck. The brush-like part was extended and Mauna was passing it up and down the girl's spine, crying as lightening burst from the little machine.

As if in slow motion, Lexa burst through the door of the cabin, pushing Mauna out of the way. She appeared to be shouting, her black warpaint showing how her face went pale as she bent over Clarke's prone form.

But Clarke found herself drifting away as if on a strong breeze. The cabin disappeared and the woods around it blurred together. Suddenly she was pulled into the ground, a wordless scream escaping her ethereal mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to keep you leaving on cliff hangers XP  
> All this information is made up and non-canon.  
> I figured the title of Commander was once a Navy rank, so Alina was most likely an 0-6.  
> All of the pairings share the same first letter of their name (A & C), since I assume Lexa's name is actually Alexandria.  
> I'll be posting the next chapter soon!


	3. Don't wake me, I'm not dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke sees the fragmented memories of her past lives, getting clearer as they play out before her. At first she cannot tell reality from the past, but she soon learns that she will have to follow her soul's example if she is ever going to make things right with Lexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bit longer, but I wanted to put up something even though it's not finished. All characters in this are fictional and made up by me. All Trigedasleng is based off the current database. I tried to include familiar interactions, but basically each character is just Clarke and Lexa. There's a lot of little homages in this chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I had fun writing it!  
> Song list that inspired this:  
> Past Lives-Borns  
> I Believe-Christina Perry  
> Warpath-Ingrid Michaelson  
> Human-Daughter

As though in a dream, her feet hit ground. She wasn't in the trees. Instead, crumbled concrete and the wreckage of buildings surrounded her. She reached for her gun and found its assuring weight, though it was only a handgun.

 _What?_ she wondered.

She was standing on a hill over looking a harbor. Debris and smashed ships lay like a graveyard in the bright daylight. Bricks lay tumbled at her feet from buildings that had been bombed. A vast metal ship sat at anchor among the wreckage in the bay. A camp of tents and salvaged materials had cook fires with smoke rising lazily to the blue sky.

And then a contingent of sailors and soldiers with guns bigger than hers walked up the hill. At the front was their leader. Her uniform was tattered but across her right breast was the velcro that read “Heda.” Across the left, “U.S. Navy.”

She stopped several yards away and her _crew_ stopped with her.

“So you're the one who murdered my lieutenant and his battalion,” Commander Alina said stiffly.

“And you're the one who sent them to kill us,” Cassandra replied icily.

But she wasn't Cassandra, she was Clarke and they were the same. Her memories were hers and not hers, how she knew these words and these places. They were names of places in the archives of the Ark.

_The Ark? What was that? Who was she? Where was she?_

A sign in the dirt nearby was propped against some stones. It was broken in half, and it read “polis.”

“Perhaps we can negotiated on neutral ground,” Alina Heda said, “I'll have a tent brought to the woods where we can talk.”

Clarke nodded her head as the sea breeze whipped her blonde hair into her face.

 

//

 

Her vision blurred and she found herself under a blossoming cherry tree. Alina relaxed beside her, not in her uniform now, just herself in a tank top and ripped jeans. A tattoo of opposing triangles adorned her right arm. A broken peak of sandy colored stone was visible across a flat expanse of water in front of them.

“I'm glad we traveled down here. I think we should create a village in this area, spread our people out more. We can control the area from Annapolis to DC,” Alina mused, propped up on her elbows in the grass.

“I think that would be good too...but what about Mount Weather?” the Cassandra, not Clarke, voice from her mouth replied.

Alina looked at her, her green eyes glittering. “Fuck Mount Weather, Cassie,” Heda said, kissing her so hotly that she could taste blood on her tongue. “I want peace. I want unity. And I want to bring down that mountain, someday.”

Clarke felt her heart breaking as Cassie's mouth whispered, “I will see it done, my love.”

 

//

 

Alina was laying in the mud, clutching a gunshot wound in her leg. Her guards lay dead around her. Clarke was temporarily disoriented as Cassandra ran to Alina's side.

“Oh shit. Oh...baby, I got you, I'm here, just hold on,” she said frantically, ripping the fabric of her shirt to create a tourniquet. She tried not to let her girlfriend see the way her hands shook. Blood was pooled around her but it looked like the bullet hadn't hit a major artery.

“I'm fine, I'm just really fucking cold and I haven’t been able to move for hours,” Alina said through gritted teeth.

Cassandra glanced over her shoulder at the mountain. “We have to go. Now. I'll help you walk.”

She pulled Alina carefully to her feet, wrapping her arm around the Commander's waist.

“What did they do to you? You were gone for a while. I thought-I thought they...”

Cassie saw the concern in her Commander's green eyes now and frowned grimly.

“I'm fine, but they made some demands,” she said quietly, navigating around a tree root in their way.

“Demands? Like what?” Alina asked.

Cassandra stopped dead, her blue eyes looking at the woman she loved.

“We have to give them our guns. All of them,” she said flatly.

 

//

 

The trees were flying at Clarke again, growing, growing so fast, green fingers reaching to the sky.

She was sitting in the dirt. It was late afternoon and the village was bustling with dinner preparations.

“Come on Chloe, pass it back,” the green eyed girl sitting with her legs out in front of her whined impatiently.

“Sorry Ally, I was just thinking,” Clarke who was a little girl and not herself replied.

She rolled the dirty orange ball and they resumed their passing game.

After a while, Chloe who was using her mouth said, “Do you have to go?”

Ally caught the ball, looking sadly into her lap. “I told you...they said I have to. After what I said when I was sick...Fisa says I was talking about things I couldn’t have known unless I was like _Heda_. He gave me that nasty tea and I had the worst nightmares...”

“Well I think Fisa is stupid and he smells like old cheese. What if hes lying? Then you don't have to go to Polis,” Chloe replied.

“I don't know...” Alina muttered as her eyes filled with tears.

 

//

 

It was dark and a huge bonfire was burning outside of a crumbling domed building. The moonlight shone on the harbor nearby, and torches lined the partially rebuilt bridge across the water.

Alina stood proudly on the steps, her head held high in a way that made her seem older than her 12 years. When she spoke, her voice hardly shook at all like it had when she first became _Heda._

“On this night, I take Chloe of TonDC as my Second. May all follow my example. I am the first of Firsts, and all First warriors will uphold the following pledge with me: _I vow to raise this young one with care. I vow to make this young one into a great warrior. I vow to be teacher and mentor, friend and confidant, till their skill exceeds my own,_ ” she announced. She turned to her best friend and clasped her arm below the elbow. She smiled slightly, her eyeliner smudged in dark circles.

“I love you, Chloe,” Ally whispered as the people cheered and danced around the fire.

She felt her heart burst with happiness. She would never leave her as long as they both lived.

 

//

 

Ally was slumped over her throne in the capitol building. A bottle of moonshine was held loosely in her hand as she snored, her brown braids hanging in her face.

Chloe burst into the room without preamble, scaring her best friend awake.

“Get up!” she hissed. “Those people with the boats are coming down the channel. They're attacking now!”

Ally curved her mouth a wicked grin, the black makeup smudged on her face making her look fierce, even for a 15 year old. “And now we kill them,” she said darkly as she got to her feet. She strode to Ally, took her hand, and kissed it. Even with the doors open, she pulled the honey blonde to her and pressed her against the wall. Their hips met and Clarke felt Chloe's chest tighten like she could barely breathe. The beauty in front of her looked determined. “And after, we celebrate. I want you,” Ally emphasized, kissing her love, her best friend, her Second. Clarke, if that was who she was, was sure it was like a dream as Ally bit her lip softly before pulling away.

“The ships are getting closer,” was all she could gasp out. The raw power was pouring out of her _Heda's_ eyes. Together they strode out the doors of the restored building. “Launch the cocktails!” Ally yelled into the night. All their people scrambled to obey, cutting the ropes that held the slings full of alcohol and rags. Burning balls of light launched high into the night, hitting the hulls of boats as screams filled the air and burning bodies fell into the bay.

In her heart, Chloe felt remorseful, felt the stain of all those souls on her hand that was clasped in Ally's. The thrill of battle, her joy at Ally's kisses, went right out of her. There had to be a better way, with no more death. Her blue eyes wept as she stared into the flames on the water.

 

//

 

The slap stung as it hit her square on the cheek. Ally had a look of hatred and pain on her face as her guards dragged Chloe to a wooden post in the square. _Heda_ advanced on her, knife glittering in the firelight. Her face was inches away and Chloe wished they could kiss once more and just forget this ever happened. She was terrified to hear what would come next. But she knew her love could not be weak, and this was the time when she had to put aside her feelings and make an example.

“You will pay for this betrayal. You were given no permission to negotiate with the Boat People. You were in no position to tell them the ingredients in our fire cocktails, or any other information about the nature of our defenses,” she growled. The 18 year old _Heda_ turned to the crowd. “My second has not completed her three year training, and I exercise the right to discipline her. She is a traitor to her people and our vision for a peaceful future.”

Ally rounded on Chloe, who could no longer remember if that was truly her name. With her sharp knife, her _Heda_ hacked away the golden braids that hung around her face.

“I trusted you. I loved you, I gave you power,” she whispered as her green eyes wept, black streaks running down her cheeks.

“You sold me out. You put our people in danger. You will pay for this.”

Clarke couldn’t believe Chloe kept her silence, the guilt and pain heavy in her chest. She did not weep. She had betrayed her First for the good of all. She had made friends among the Boat People and sabotaged all their ships. That was how she had tried to ensure peace, make things like they used to be. But Ally didn't understand, wouldn't listen. The Boat People didn't like Ally's trade embargo either, but her Commander believed she was justified in keeping needed supplies for her own people through the winter. Chloe had not agreed, and now, she was going to pay the price. Their eyes exchanged words that couldn’t not be expressed as the _Heda_ finished hacking off her hair and turned away, brushing her tears quickly so no one would see. “Chloe of TonDC will suffer _wamplei kom thauz kodon_ [death by a thousand cuts]. If she survives the night, I will put a knife through her heart myself,” she announced, and returned to the capitol building, her red cloak swishing in her wake like a river of blood.

 

//

 

Clarke felt herself lifted out of the bleeding body of Chloe and seemed be to pulled over a vast space of land. She was momentarily confused when suddenly she stood amongst a wood of evergreens covered in snow. Then she remembered who she was. _I'm Clarke,_ she wanted to say aloud, but this was a mere memory and she was just along for the ride. In front of her was a tent set apart from the rest of the village behind her. She started walking towards the fur covered structure, her feet crunching on ice. She felt her heart pounding in her chest. When she was a few steps away, she stopped and called shakily, “ _Hai, fisa...sochu_? [Hi, healer. How are you?] No answer. Inside, she could hear a soft clinking noise. She knew she wouldn't receive an answer. Mauna was mad, they said, and unpredictable. They suspected her of hurting some of the village children, but they couldn't prove anything. Her friend Leston had gone to bring Mauna some food last week and came back with strange burns on his neck, but didn't seem to want to talk about it.

Clarke was impatient as the girl who's memories she was inhabiting reached out a gloved hand to pull the tent flat open, balancing the tray of food in her hand. Mauna always forgot to get her meals when she was working. She had been working on something very important for months now. No one in the village dared disturb her, for she was known for flying into a rage. But she was the only healer they had, so they sent someone to bring her meals a couple times a day.

She pulled the tent flap open wider.

“ _Fisa? Ai han sanch op..._ ”[Healer? I found lunch...].

“Well get in here, you little idiot,” came the old healer's sharp voice.

Her cheeks burning, she entered the warm tent. Furs were piled in one corner, and a shelf full of bones and feathers occupied another. But Mauna was bent intently over a table, a metal contraption in front of her. She seemed to pay no mind until Clarke's child hands set down the food.

Mauna's snapped up. “Get that away, my masterpiece is finally ready,” she shouted angrily waving her bandaged hands. Her eyes lit up as she picked up the contraption on the table. Her expression softened.

“Come here, child,” she cajoled, “I need your help with something else. What is your name?”

She hesitated. _Who are you?_ Clarke wondered. “ _Ai Chaya_ ,” her mouth said.

“Chaya. Pretty child. Would you like to know who you once were? Would you like to know who you will marry?” Mauna asked.

Her mind raced. This twelve year old girl, her third reincarnation, was confused.

“ _Sha_?” [yes?] she said, unsure.

“Then come here,” Mauna said, taking her by the elbow and turning her around.

Without warning, two tines punctured her neck, and her body went rigid as electricity spread across her skin

She screamed so loudly she was sure it would echo through all her lives.

 

//

 

She was burning up. How did the _Trikru_ survive in this heat? It was horrible. She was accustomed to the frozen wastes.

Mauna's constant ranting didn't help. They had traveled for several days, carrying the machine.

She didn't want to think about her mother throwing them out, but the thoughts came unbidden. She had woken up to shouting as Mauna's tent burned down around them, electricity arcing through her and everything in its path. She felt like she had been gone for days. She had seen her past, and she had seen the girl who was her future. She had been terrified. But now she knew only one thing. She had to return to Polis...go to Polis for the first time. She was not just Chaya anymore. She was carrying Cassandra and Chloe with her. Their memories. Their language, their history. She was the first self aware person who had seen her past souls.

So when Mauna had been banished, Chaya had said goodbye to her mother, the leader of their village. Said goodbye to the home she knew in this life, for the one she had known in her past lives.

 _And this time, I'll will make it right,_ she thought determinedly, _or die trying_. As if she knew Clarke was in her head.

“Look, we're here! Finally _Heda_ will see us,” she said excitedly.

They hurried down the hill as the sun hung overhead. It was far too hot for her in this life. Her pale skin was sunburned and she was exhausted. Her neck still hurt, despite the poultice on her burns. At least Mauna was able to care for that.

They reached the gates and Chaya stopped. This was her home, or at very least, where the person she could call her home was. The memories of the last time her spirit was here were still fresh in her mind.

_I'm home, Ally. Alina. My Heda._

The guards at the gate stiffened at their approach.

“Stop. Who are you and from where do you come?” the big man on the right demanded.

Mauna was shuffling her feet, so Chaya cleared her throat and spoke with the voices of the women she had been. “I am Chaya and this is my mentor, Mauna. We are from the north. I am the daughter of the leader of the Ice Nation. We come with a message for your _Heda_.

The man on the left just scoffed. “Everyone wishes to see her. She holds audiences at the third hour past noon until the fifth. You may not carry weapons into the city, you are unknown to us.”

“We have no weapons,” Mauna said quickly.

The guards glanced at each other. They walked over and began patting the Mauna and Chaya down. Clarke felt her insides squirm with apprehension but she stayed still. The men were big and dangerous. She did not want to anger them. They picked up her pack and began to throw things about, looking for anything sharp or deadly, she supposed.

Mauna's pack had packets of roots and vials of medcine along with extra clothes and a leather bound book, her personal journal. They tossed them into the dirt and stomped on the bottles. “Poison,” one guard spit. Mauna winced and sniffled at the sound of glass breaking.

“What the...what is this?” the first guard exclaimed he pulled out the soul device, showing it to his companion. Mauna's eyes got wide and she looked like she wanted to lunge for it, but Chaya eyed her and shook her head slightly to indicate she stay still.

“Looks useless,” the second guard grunted.

They both stood and returned to their places, holding their spears upright. “You may pass,” they said.

Mauna and Chaya gathered their things and hurried inside.

Chaya knew where they were going, where she could find her soulmate. She had trouble remembering she was just a girl, and that she looked strange to the people of Polis. Some stared at her furs and long blonde hair, her blue eyes. But no one barred their way. They reached the domed capitol building with the cross on top. Several guards stood outside on the steps, motionless but alert. Mauna's eyes darted about and she visibly cowered, as though slouching would make them not notice her.

Chaya walked fearlessly toward the open doors. A woman near the top of the stairs methodically patted them down once more while a man rummaged through their packs.

“What is this?” he demanded as he held up the soul machine.

Chaya bit her lip. This was going to be a bit harder than getting into the city.

“It's a gift,” Mauna piped up, “for _Heda_! A very nice, not dangerous gift!”

Chaya glared at her. “ _Shop of_ ,” she muttered, elbowing the older woman. She cleared her throat and held her head high. “I am _Heda's keryon houmon_ [soul's spouse, soulmate]. I wish to see her immediately.”

The guards blinked, then began guffawing loudly. They grabbed her and Mauna by their arms, dragging them down the stairs. “You're out of your mind. Get you gone! If you wish for an audience, you'll have to wait, and no weapons are allowed in the throne room,” the female guard said seriously.

Clarke felt Chaya's anger. “Stay here, I’ll be back,” she growled to Mauna.

She threw her pack down and stripped off her fur coat, then stomped up the stairs. The guards glanced at each other but let her pass. She could hear their laughter behind her as she got into the antechamber off the throne room. She touched the doors slightly with her fingers, remembering Ally kissing her with a shiver like ghosts on her skin.

There were probably 30 people in the room waiting for an audience. Some were mothers with children on their laps, others were fisherman and farmers. They all looked tired and bored, and spoke in low voices. None of them even acknowledged her.

2 hours later, she was sitting in the corner dozing when the room had finally emptied out. The fat clerk who had been calling people in based on the list they all signed opened the doors, glanced quickly around and called, “That is all for today, _Heda_ ,” over his shoulder.

Chaya jumped to her feet. “No, wait! I'm here!” she cried, running to the door and flinging her arm in to stop it closing.

The man looked at her in surprise.

“I'm sorry, audience hours are finished,” he replied sternly.

“No, please, you don't understand, I have to see her. I came so far, I need to tell her about...my dreams, about our past lives, um...I need to talk to her,” she finished lamely, unsure how to convince him.

From the other side of the door, she heard a female voice say something. The man glanced over his shoulder, then back to Chaya, his balding head sweating. “ _Sha, Heda_ ,” he said, stepping aside and opening the door.

Chaya caught her breath as she saw the girl standing next to the throne. She had obviously been about to leave, but now stood still, curiously looking at the newcomer.

“What is your name and purpose?” the young _Heda_ inquired.

Clarke found her voice stuck in her throat, momentarily unsure. She cleared her throat and licked her lips. It was now or never. “My name is Chaya. I am from the village of Sylvania in the Ice Nation...I am here because our village healer has discovered a way to watch one's past lives and return to the present,” she stated.

The dark haired girl's green eyes widened slightly. She walked toward Chaya, who fought the urge to touch her once they were close.

_She doesn't know what I am to her._

“Leave us,” _Heda_ commanded to the various advisors and attendants, her eyes never leaving Chaya's face.

There was a clambering and clinking as everyone left, but neither girl spared them a glance. When they were alone, the sharp jaw of the child Commander relaxed.

“What is your name in this life?” Chaya asked, unable to contain herself any longer.

“I'm Aliyah,” the other girl said with a perplexed smile. “How do you know about the dreams?” she asked, then hesitated before continuing, “I always get the ones where I'm someone else, but I don't always remember anything except that I was always _Heda._ ”

Chaya found herself grinning. “If you remember that, then I may have a way to help you remember more,” she said.

 

//

 

Clarke found herself pulled away again, following the path of Chaya's most significant memories. She felt her sanity fraying from processing so much emotion. Before she knew it, she was slammed back into the body of her predecessor.

They were in a cave of some kind, overlooking a lake. Parts of man made concrete intersected the floor and walls, but otherwise it was barren except for Mauna's pack, which she was rummaging through. Aliyah stood uncertainly in the doorway. “Do you think this will be safe place to do this?” she asked.

Chaya went to her beloved and touched her arm gently. “I won't let anything happen to you. I promise,” she assured her.

Aliyah bristled and walked to the middle of the cave. “You had better not. I have much to accomplish, and an early death will not make my people very happy,” she said, blustering as she nodded toward the guards at the cave mouth. Chaya couldn't even be phased by her false bravado. She could see right through _Heda_ , she always had been able to. The girl was scared, but she would get through it. She was strong, even in her weakest moments. She had grown better at hiding fear in this life.

Mauna stood up and walked to the dark haired leader, handing her a tin cup. “I figured out a way to make it hurt less. Ginger, Belladonna, sage, and a few other special ingredients. You wont feel pain, you'll be asleep. And when you wake up, you'll remember.”

Aliyah took the cup and chewed the moist plants within with a grimace.

“I know its gross,” Chaya said, sitting next to her, “but believe me, its worse without something to stop the pain.”

“It is fine. I do not fear pain,” Aliyah replied, staring at floor as she swallowed.

Chaya smiled at how typical that statement was, and Clarke couldn't help but be amused as well. It was one of things that was loveable about the _Heda_ spirit.

“Do you remember what I told you? I'll be right here when you wake up. You may be out for quite some time-” Chaya reiterated, but Aliyah cut her off.

“I am well aware. You and your...mentor have repeated it many times, Chaya of the Ice Nation,” the _Heda_ said.

 _She's terrified,_ Clarke realized _. She's trying to hide behind formality. She's clenching her jaw. That's just like her._

Mauna puttered around, muttering. “Improvements...hopefully...the field generator...her cortex...”

Chaya was waiting for the herbs to take effect. She was thankful her beloved wasn't going to experience the pain she had gone through.

When Aliyah finally slumped forward, groaning, Mauna practically pounced on her. She was so eager to try out her invention, her life's work, that she often forgot how to behave properly or even how to treat others as human beings. It drove Chaya crazy. If she didn’t need Mauna's knowledge to help Aliyah remember their bond, to remember her past, Chaya probably would have left her behind before they were out of sight of Sylvania.

So she said nothing as Mauna clamped the gold wires around Aliyah's temples, pressing down until the needles on the underside punctured the soft skin of the neck. With the girl now laying face down, she unclasped the electrodes and pulled the retractable wire. She passed the hairbrush-like piece up and down Aliyah's spine several times before she replaced it. She backed away and then began whooping and jumping joyously “It worked! No dry winter air to pull he current. Perfect! Just perfect!” she cried.

 _Heda's_ guards, two tall women named Alise and Iris, burst into the cave with weapons drawn at the sound. Seeing their Commander's prone form, Alise cried, “What have you done to my First?!”

Chaya threw herself in the way.“No, no, she gave you an order! This is why we're here! You can't interrupt this!” she shouted, holding her hands up in an attempt to get them to back off. Both women stood down, putting their weapons away. “If she dies, you will suffer _wamplei kom thauz kodon_ ,” Iris growled in Chaya's face.

“If she dies, you'll have to fight me to leave her,” Chaya shot back.

Alise and Iris resumed their posts at the entrance to the cave, their hostility barely in check.

Mauna glanced at the girls apprehensively. “Now we wait,” she said.

Chaya could only nod. She desperately wanted to hold Aliyah's head in her lap, but she didn't want to disturb the machine lodged in her spinal column.

And so they waited. For two days, Chaya hovered at her beloved's side, wetting her lips, checking her breathing, and avoiding the glares of Alise and Iris. Mauna pulled out the electrodes and passed them up and down Aliyah's spine every 4 hours methodically. She put more herbs into the girl's mouth, cursing the awkward angle and trying to figure out a better way to use the machine and keep the patient sedated.

At long last, Aliyah gasped loudly as her soul returned to her body. She coughed and sputtered as Mauna quickly grabbed the machine and removed it.

Chaya held her soulmate's head in her hands as Alise and Iris rushed in with swords drawn again.

“Cassandra?” Aliyah sighed groggily.

“No, its Chaya now, love. I'm here, just like I said I’d be,” Chaya replied, tears forming in her eyes.

Aliyah licked her lips and asked, “How long was I gone?”

“Two days, my _Heda_ ,” Iris responded.

Aliyah's eyes focused on her guards and she smiled. “I know you,” she said.

Alise and Iris glanced uncertainly at her. “We feared these...bandits has killed you,” Alise admonished.

Aliyah sat up shakily, but anger showed in her eyes. “You will _never_ refer to them as such again. Chl-er, Chaya, is my _keryon houmon_ and Mauna is the witch who helped me remember my past lives. They are honored. From now on, if you attack them, you attack me. Understood?”

The two looked at each other. “Yes, _Heda_ ,” they said in unison, ducking their heads.

 

//

 

It was a beautiful midsummer's eve, just as the sun was setting and the air was cooling by the second. Chaya looked out the window of the bedroom she and Aliyah shared above the throne room.

“There's so many people out there...” she mused, leaning forward slightly.

Warm, tanned arms wrapped around her waist. “Its a monumental occasion for them. And for us,” Aliyah purred, nipping her neck, “This is he first life where we will be formally joined.”

Chaya sighed contentedly. “I know. I couldn't be happier, really.” She turned and faced the other woman, feeling her heart beat faster as she looked in Aliyah's green eyes. Her stomach did a flip, but she had something to say before the ceremony took place. “But I'm afraid this life will end like all the others,” she whispered.

Aliyah frowned. “I hope not. I have killed you and seen you die enough already,” she said, brushing her hands through the blonde's fine hair.

Chaya shivered at the touch. “Perhaps we will live longer in this life. I hate being the first to die,” she confessed.

“It doesn't matter. We will always be one. And now, everyone will know it. And soon others can go on the Soulwalk. Others will find their destiny. It will be easier for us to find each other next time,” the twenty year old _Heda_ promised.

 _But it wasn't_ , Clarke thought sadly, remembering what Mauna had told her in the future about the fourth incarnation.

There was a knock on the door. “ _Heda_ , it is time,” Alise called.

“Ready?” Aliyah asked Chaya as Clarke felt her heart beat wildly.

She nodded.

They descended the steps of the capitol building in full armor and warpaint. Chaya wore a blue sash to match Aliyah's red one. The people cheered wildly as the couple clasped hands over a low fire, purposely set in the same place where Chloe had once died.

Mauna was dressed finely, the madness in her eyes tamed for the moment as she stood beside them and read the blessing.

“In past and in future, may these two souls be joined, by fire and ash, until all souls return to the earth. May they meet and love completely in war, in pain, in light, and in happiness.”

She pulled two small metal objects from her pocket. “May these gears symbolize the love of Aliyah and Chaya across the ages. May it pass to each person who their soul embodies, as a symbol of the _Heda's_ _keryon mounon_ bond,” she finished. She stepped forward and pressed the golden gear into Aliyah's head. “Do you, _Heda_ Aliyah, accept the soul of Chaya to be yours?”

“Yes,” she responded without hesitation.

Mauna turned to Chaya and stuck the golden gear between her eyes. “Do you, Chaya of the Ice Nation, accept the soul of Aliyah to be yours?”

Clarke felt her throat tighten as she looked at the green eyes across the fire from her.

“Yes,” she stated.

A great cry of happiness from the crowd of assorted nations spread around her as Clarke was pulled away once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note as if April 2016*   
> At the time this chapter was written, season 2 had just ended. Many people, including me, assumed that, like TonDC, Polis was a city that existed before the bombs and thus could only be Annapolis, MD. I have never been there, but a quick search showed a harbor, a domed Capitol building and a bridge. It became the setting of the story, so you won't find Polis Tower here. Surprisingly, the device found in the story ending up going well with the canon AI storyline (possibly as an interface between the Chip and something else?). With that in mind, I may make some minor tweaks (maybe add in more about Rebecca and the Nightblood) but this story is mostly canon divergence. Thanks for your patience!


	4. All I want is for you to remember me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke sees her fourth past life and a vision of Lexa and Costia...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to make this last life its own chapter after all. I know its a bit short but I just wanted to publish something for you all! Thanks so much for reading! I promise the next chapter will be longer.  
> Songs:  
> Heavy Lies the Crown-In Fear and Faith  
> Broken Arrows-Daughtry  
> Arsonist's Lullaby-Hozier

She drifted for some time, wondering if her soul was lost.

_Have I died again?_

But no, there was a whooshing in her ears as she tumbled down into a new body.

It was dark and someone was holding her hand. They were running through the forest, and underbrush was hitting her in the face. She realized she was quite small as they passed a huge stump. The moonlight filtered through the trees and suddenly they were at a small cliff. In waves of dark hills, the desert stretched out in front of them, seeming to be endless.

The woman holding her hand turned to her, tears streaking down her face in muddy tracks.

“Celia, you must go,” she sobbed.

“But _nomon, ai_ don't want to. I'm scared,” the child that Clarke was whined in two languages. She had picked up her father's proud words even though she was so small.

“Celia...my baby,” her mother moaned as torches came into view behind her and the shouts of warriors grew louder.

“ _Nomon_ , can we go home now?” she asked with childlike innocence.

“No, sweets...we're going to play a game. Go to the bottom of the cliff here...see, it's not so far. And you wait for me, baby, ok? You wait for me to get you,” she promised.

“Ok...” the child said, and began to slide down the cliff on her backside, dislodging dirt and sand.

She got the bottom and shouted up to her mother, who leaned over the edge.

“Run, Celia, run!”

She did.

 

//

 

The sun was so hot as Clarke slid a few days farther into Celia's memories. She was walking, her shirt over her head to protect her face. Her back was burning but she had had to pick between the two in the middle of the day. She had lost sight of the trees. Her tears had dried up all the moisture in her body. And she was injured, missing her right arm.

 _Wait_.

She had never had it. Three spindly appendages poked out from where her shoulder should have met an arm. She was born deformed, but her mother had hidden her away for her short five years. Her mother had protected her from those who feared the bad blood of radiation. And they had chased them. They had wanted her dead.

And now she was all alone.

She laid down on the hot sand. Not even thinking, she began to dig a hole, finding cooler sand underneath. She covered her burning skin with it. She reached her hands up and put her shirt over head again.

She was just five years old, but she waited for death as Clarke despaired inside her head.

But she found her shirt pulled off her head near sundown.

“Hey!” she tried to shout, but her dehydrated mouth could only make a low moaning sound.

“I've got you,” a male voice said quietly as she was lifted out of the sand.

 

//

 

_Thunk._

“Again,” Craig commanded.

“We've been at this all day,” Celia whined.

“What did I tell you?”

“The City of Light is filled with dangers,” she recited with a roll of her eyes.

“That's right. I'll make dinner, you keep throwing,” he said as he stood up.

Celia gripped the knife tight and tried to control her movements, but she was impatient and antsy. It had taken them years to get this far. Years of wandering the desert. Years of raiding other travelers. She was tired of throwing her knives at the canvas target outside their tent. Worse, she was tired of being lonely. Craig wasn't very good company, and all he ever talked about was A.L.I.E. Her construction and her protocols. How he had wandered away to fix the solar panels and found Celia in the sand. How he had dug the mines for A.L.I.E.'s protection. Always about her. Celia was 15 now, fully grown and capable. Craig was the only thing she knew.

Surely there was more to life than this, she thought, throwing her knife and watching as it landed dead center in the target.

Suddenly, a woman appeared right where her knife was. She had dark hair and red lips. Her dress was a bright shade of red and her high heels seemed to float above the sand.

“What do _you_ want?” Celia demanded, glancing over her shoulder to see where Craig was. He seemed not to have noticed their visitor.

“Hello, Celia. I have a special assignment for you and Craig,” A.L.I.E. said unctuously.

“Oh yeah?” Clarke mouthed as Celia crossed her arms, “What is it now?”

“Come home to the City of Light,” the woman said before she flickered and disappeared.

 

//

 

Celia's eyes widened as she and A.L.I.E. entered the hanger. She had been training for five years. She was the best pilot to pass the simulations, but it was nothing compared to actually climbing the ladder to the cockpit. Her heart was hammering as A.L.I.E. hovered in the seat next to her, projecting from a long range chip node. She was reiterating the mission and protocols in a passionate voice, but Celia tuned her out easily. She powered the engines and hydraulics. The strum of motors, even old ones, caused a shiver to run through her. This is what she had trained for. With her robotic right arm, Celia flipped the navigation controls and programed her destination.

MOUNT WEATHER, the screen read.

“Excellent,” A.L.I.E. chirped, “we will regain the weapons stashed in the mountain soon enough. Then we can initiate Phase 2.”

Celia clenched her jaw and entered the runway. She went over her plan again in her mind as they picked up speed. As soon as she reached the mountain, she was going to crush A.L.I.E.'s long distance chip node into the dirt. She would take the supplies in the planes cargo hold and find her way back to her mother. It had been almost 15 years, but she hoped there was a way to find to her real home. She would even give up the arm they had 3D printed and engineered in the City of Light. She wanted to be where she was born, where she belonged. Screw A.L.I.E. and her plans for more dangerous technology. There had to be more to the world than bombs and guns. She was just a means to an end for the holographic woman beside her. Celia was the only one equipped to fly across the desert and get what she wanted.

As Celia leveled out and the hanger faded from view, she began to relax. A.L.I.E. had finally shut up and was simply monitoring the plane's systems. They gained altitude rapidly as the desert spread out below them.

Celia was pleased. She felt the thrill of flying, a swooping sensation in her stomach that no simulation could ever duplicate. Clarke felt it too, but thought only of her descent to earth, which was not a pleasant comparison to how she had felt in this past life.

The euphoria Celia was feeling doubled when the treeline came into view not much later. Traversing the desert by plane took far less time than by foot. The bump of the Mountain could even be seen on the horizon.

Suddenly, a warning tone emitted from the dash. The radar showed a red dot speeding their way.

“What the hell is that?” Celia cried in surprise. Her training hadn't detailed what to do in this situation.

“Evasive maneuvers, Celia,” A.L.I.E. replied calmly, “It's a homing missile.”

“You said there wasn't anyone living there! You said they couldn't attack us!” Celia yelled, jerking the plane sharply off course.

“Well, now we know. I will have to find a new plan. How tiresome,” A.L.I.E. sighed as she flickered and disappeared.

“You cowardly bitch!” Celia screamed as Clarke felt the impact of the missile and the desert sands loomed in front of her vision. Her whole world went white.

 

//

 

The first thing she noticed was that there was no sound. Stranger still, she could move of her own accord. She wasn’t in a body. She also wasn't in the desert, or in a plane.

She was in TonDC. And she was standing next to Anya, who ignored her but looked proudly toward a tent nearby.

Lexa emerged in full warpaint and armor. She looked younger, her face soft and trying to hide a smile. Her red sash trailed to the ground and she held the hand of a girl with a heart shaped face who wore a matching blue sash.

Clarke was stunned.

 _That's Costia_ , she realized. _It has to be_.

The drawing in Mauna's book hadn’t done her justice. She was beautiful. As she held Lexa's hands over a low fire, she positively glowed. Mauna began reading from her book and Clarke realized it was the same ceremony she had done in her third life.

 _Theyre bonding! But...I'm not Costia_.

She was moving before she realized it, drifting really, until she stopped right in front of Costia. No one acknowledged her, but she could see the way Costia was looking at Lexa.

This close, Clarke also realized something.

Costia had brown eyes.

_This isn't right. Something’s wrong._

She turned and looked at the faces in the crowd. Many appeared to be full of anticipation and happiness. Except for several on the far side of the yard. A tall woman with a crown of holly stood among her warriors, who were clad in blue and white. She looked furious.

“Lexa,” she tried to say, turning to her soulmate to warn her about the woman. “Lexa...”

Then she was pulled into the trees, into the ground, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note as of April 2016*   
> This chapter was written before we knew the City of Light wasn't an actual place and that when you are there you don't have any deformities. I still think it kind of works with the canon though!


	5. I can give you everything you need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke wakes up to find herself in bed. She and Lexa reconnect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NOT Safe for Work! Read with caution because it includes adult content.  
> Sorry this took so long to get up, I have been working mandatory overtime for the past two weeks and haven't had much time. 
> 
> Also please note that I am going out of the country for 2 weeks and will return May 25. I will not have internet access overseas, but will hopefully be able to type and update when I get back. Thanks so much for reading, and I promise the next chapter will include many resolutions to unanswered questions!

She was drifting in a dimly lit room. She could see her real body, blonde hair on the pillow of a bed. Their bed. Hers and Ally's. And Aliyah's. The room above the throne room. Polis. The bed was piled with furs, there were blackout curtains on the window, a warm fireplace at the foot of the bed, fur rugs, and a pair of antique red chairs.

And Lexa.

Her brown haired soulmate was sitting beside the bed on a low stool, carefully removing the soul machine from Clarke's head.

She blinked several times and took a deep breath as she was jolted back into her own body at last. The room slid into focus and she coughed loudly.

Lexa's hand was firm as she bandaged the punctures on Clarke's neck.

She finally found her voice.

“I'm back...I'm here...”

“Yes, you are,” Lexa answered quietly.

Clarke turned to her. Her green eyes caught the light and Clarke began to cry. Hot tears slid down her cheeks.

“My _Heda_....Alina. Ally. Aliyah...” she whispered, names and events and memories jumbled. Her chest tightened as she reached her hand out.

“It's Alexandria in this life,” Lexa said as she took Clarke's hand in her own. It was warm and Clarke felt a jolt in her stomach when they touched.

“Alexandria...but I like Lexa better,” Clarke chuckled slightly, wiping the tears from her eyes with her free hand.

“A name I gave as a disguise. Your people somehow adopted it,” the fifth _Heda_ replied with a soft smile. Clarke had so rarely seen her smile in this life. She felt her chest tighten. Without realizing it, she brought Lexa's hand to her mouth. She softly kissed the other girl's wrist.

“You never told me,” Clarke said as Lexa's fingers cupped her face. Her palm was calloused and warm. Almost sweaty. Lexa's pulse against her fingers raced. Clarke kissed each of her fingertips as Lexa tried to keep her composure.

“You never asked...and you did not take the test before puberty in this life. But I knew the moment I saw you. I said nothing because there was no time to bring you to take the test. I asked you before the battle to come with me because I needed you to know.” she said breathily, looking at Clarke intently.

“I know now,” Clarke replied, pressing her lips to Lexa's palm.

“Clarke, you should not be around me right now. You're feeling a lot of emotions, many of them confusing. You have to be careful or your past lives will overwhelm you. I did the Soulwalk myself a few weeks ago...remembering can cause intense feelings.”

Clarke's mouth hovered on Lexa's pointer finger.

“I don't care, Lexa. I'm here now...but I never knew you could take it more than once.” she said, curious for a moment before going back to Lexa's wrist, which she softly kissed again. She was sure she never wanted to Soulwalk again. But right now the only feelings she was having were love and desire.

“Yes. I did it several times in my fourth life, as Allesandra, and it drove me mad. But it helps me to remember past wars and...I had to be sure. Sure you were the one,” Lexa said quietly. She leaned forward and brushed Clarke's hair off her cheek with her left hand. “Besides, sometimes the dangerous and unknown road is the only way to find any shards of happiness in this life.”

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then Clarke reached and pulled Lexa's chin to her. She looked deep into her eyes.

<<I am yours, _Heda_. I have always been yours. >>

The Trigedesleng came easily to her tongue now, and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears at the words. It was the truth she knew with all of her. She was the _keryon mounon_ , and she always had been.

Lexa's eyes widened slightly.

“Clarke...”

Their lips meet in a soft and tender kiss, that led to several more small pecks. Clarke found herself pulling Lexa to her, needing her now more than ever in their past lives. Their lips hardly left each other as Lexa climbed on top of Clarke and the the soft furs. Clarke ran her hands down Lexa's back as they kissed deeper, feeling the soft fabric of Lexa's tunic. There was no warpaint and no armor, but Clarke reached up to twine her hands in the soft brown braids of Lexa's hair. Everything was familiar, like she was truly home after a long journey.

Lexa took a shuddering breath and buried her face in Clarke's neck.

<<I never thought it would take so long to find you again...>> Lexa whispered.

<<It's alright...>>

<< _Hodnes laik kwelnes_. >>

<<Not our love...please just stay with me now... my _Leksa_... >>

Their lips met again, warm and wet and passionate. Clarke's world seemed to explode behind her eyes as Lexa's body pressed down on her.

_You were born for this, Clarke. Same as me._

Lexa's words echoed in her head and a surge of desire coursed through her. All her past lives, all their past lovemaking, flashed through her mind. Her eyes flew open as she flipped Lexa on her back, throwing the furs aside. The Commander's green eyes were wide with surprise. In this life, as in others, Clarke knew exactly how her _Heda_ burned for her.

As she ran her hands up Lexa's sides under her shirt, Clarke shuddered as she realized she would kill a thousand more people to feel this woman in her arms like every other time.

<< _Osir keryon ste teina_ >> Clarke breathed. _Our souls are intertwined_.

Lexa drew in her breath sharply and propped herself up on her elbows. Before they knew it, they had whipped their shirts out of the way. Clarke hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked on Lexa's, then she lowered her body down, kissing Lexa's collarbones. Lexa arched under her, all her scars mixing with goosebumps as they kissed passionately. The feeling of their skin touching made them both audibly moan. It was silk and softness and warmth that felt like the prickles of electricity. Lexa pressed up against her as she bit the soft skin of her neck. She could feel Lexa's pulse and her heartbeat as their chests pressed together. She slid her legs between Lexa's, her thigh pressing against the warm spot between her legs. Lexa responded by lifting her own thigh, which Clarke pressed herself against.

She had the mad thought she could melt right into her lover at that moment. She wanted to be closer than was physically possible. They were one, they were always meant to be one. Lexa's heavy breathing told Clarke she was ready for this. She pulled back, hating the space, and began to tug at the white bindings on Lexa's chest.

“Don't you have proper bras where you're from?” she hissed.

Lexa laughed and sat up, shifting slightly so Clarke was comfortably in her lap. “I could ask you the same question. How am I supposed to get that contraption off?” she raised her eyebrows to the threadbare push up bra Clarke had always worn.

Clarke laughed and rolled her eyes, reaching to pop the bra off with one quick motion. She threw it aside carelessly.

She felt somewhat exposed, and the air made her nipples harden. She covered herself with her hands. Lexa continued unwinding her bindings, looking Clarke straight in the eyes.

“You're beautiful,” she stated sincerely.

Clarke blushed, leaning forward to kiss Lexa as the white bindings were tossed off. Her smaller breasts stuck out stiffly. Clarke pushed her hands through Lexa's hair and whispered against her mouth, “I could say the same for you.”

Lexa sighed softly as Clarke lightly trailed her fingers up her scarred skin. She felt Lexa's hands slide down her bare back and to her ass as their mouths parted and their tongues danced together. The feeling of their hard nipples brushing against one another was ticklish and arousing. Lexa's thumbs hooked into the waistband of Clarke's pants and tugged impatiently.

“I want these off. Now.”

“ _Sha, Heda_ ,” Clarke quipped with a grin, and they both stood up to take their pants off. It felt cold without their bodies pressed together, and they both soon realized the fire was getting low. Clarke steadied herself and tried to regain her composure as she removed her boots, socks, and pants. Lexa stoked the fire and tossed a new log in a strategic spot so that it blazed forth. She left a trail of buckles, pants, socks, and her own boots on the way back to the bed.

Clarke was waiting willingly, laying on her side in just her underwear. The furs tickled her skin but she didn’t mind a bit when Lexa climbed back into the bed with her. For several long moments, they lay on their sides, heads propped up by their hands, looking into each other's eyes. Clarke felt like it would be peaceful if it weren’t for the sense of urgency stirring between her legs. She could feel the wetness there just from kissing, but this wasn't like with Finn or with anyone else she had been with. This was slow and sensual...at least for now.

Lexa made the first move, reaching her hand out to stroke Clarke's left side. Her calloused hand swept over Clarke's skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. They both inched closer and angled their heads to kiss. They stuck to simple pecks on the mouth, focused more on their roving hands. Clarke ran her left hand over Lexa's stomach, marveling at the hardness there, born of constant training. Her stomach was taunt and smooth, but Clarke could feel the way she sucked in air at the touch.

Before she knew it, Lexa was on top of her, their legs fitting together like puzzle pieces. With her brown hair cascading around their faces, Lexa left a trail of kisses from Clarke's mouth to her earlobe, which she softly nibbled until it elicited a soft moan. Then she kissed down Clarke's neck, leaving a damp trail behind that got cold as she moved on. Clarke's entire body was tense in anticipation for whatever Lexa was going to do next.

She gasped in surprise when Lexa bit down on her collarbone. The scrape of Lexa's teeth was exquisite, but Lexa didn’t stop there long. She left a burning trail of sharp bites down Clarke's chest, then looked up, as if asking permission, before circling her right nipple with her tongue. Clarke watched her with hunger in her eyes, and Lexa responded by flicking her tongue teasingly over the hard bud. She licked lightly several more times until Clarke arched to meet her mouth, eager and needy. Lexa reached up and grabbed Clarke's left breast with her hand as her mouth wrapped around the right one, warm and wet and sucking with such intensity that Clarke couldn't hold back several small moans of pleasure.

Lexa's eyes locked on her face as she sucked and licked, but Clarke tipped her head back and was momentarily unable to think. The feel of Lexa's mouth was almost too good, and she could feel her body aching with need. Lexa repeated the same ministrations on her other breast, and Clarke began to get impatient. She reached up and ran her hands through Lexa's hair, tugging a fistful slightly with her urgency.

Getting the message, Lexa smirked and planted several kisses down Clarke's abdomen. She paused, however, at Clarke's hipbone, right above the line of her underwear. Clarke watched as, with a wicked grin, Lexa licked her lips and then took the fabric in her teeth, tugging down. Clarke realized that was not exactly the easiest way to get the fabric out of the way, but she helped Lexa by wiggling her ass until her underwear were down to her knees. Lexa pulled them the rest of the way off, and the tension in Clarke's stomach skyrocketed. But Lexa, determined to tease, just slowly kissed her thighs, nuzzled them with her nose, refusing to move any closer to her ultimate goal.

Clarke knew she couldn't take the soft brushes against her inner thighs much longer.

“Lexa....” she breathed, breasts heaving with anticipation.

“Yes?” Lexa replied, her eyelashes fluttering against Clarke's left thigh.

“If I have to wait another life for you to fuck me, I swear I-”

She didn't finish, however, because Lexa's head dipped down, and her strong tongue swiped across Clarke's clit. Her thighs clenched in surprise, but Lexa licked her again, hands on Clarke's thighs now, parting her and exposing her. Lexa's tongue was slow and deliberate, running up and down, drawing patterns that made Clarke's muscles buckle with each new sensation. Lexa's nose bumped against her clit as her soft tongue found its way into Clarke's folds, slick with her juices. Clarke couldn't help but buck upwards, needing more, feeling her pelvic bone grinding against Lexa's face.

She should have been afraid of drowning the woman whose tongue was pleasing her, but she was past caring. Clarke grabbed her own breasts, tugging her nipples and rolling them between her fingers. Lexa glanced up, coming up for air, and reached a hand to cup Clarke's left breast. Her tattoo stood out clearly even in the dim light, and Clarke sucked in her breath, mesmerized by Lexa's green eyes, Lexa's mouth sucking on her clit, Lexa's hand gripping her breast.

Just when she thought she couldn't hold in the orgasm that was building inside her, Lexa roughly inserted two fingers into Clarke. Her knuckles hooked in a come hither motion as Clarke ground harder against her face. Lexa's tough fingers slid in and out, hot and slick. Then she pressed her tongue flat against Clarke's clit and let the blonde do the work, holding steady and flicking the tip of her tongue every so often. All Clarke could feel is Lexa and before she knew it, her muscles tensed and she cried out in abandon.

“Lexa, Lexa, Lexa...!”

And for moment, she was lost again, her body twitching slightly with aftershocks. Lexa crawled up to collapse beside her. No words were exchanged, and none were needed. Lexa held Clarke as her breathing evened out.

Clarke opened her eyes, and in the dim light, she could see that Lexa's legs were tense, holding in her own need to be touched. Clarke lazily ran a hand down Lexa's hip, then brushed her fingers across the dark hair of Lexa's mons. With a soft sigh, Lexa parted her legs just enough to allow her access.

Clarke found that Lexa was incredibly wet, and without hesitating, began to stroke Lexa's clit with two fingers in small circles. Lexa gripped Clarke's shoulders, moaning into her neck softly. Clarke parted Lexa's inner lips and slowly inserted a finger, then two. Lexa was already so close after being turned on by licking Clarke. Her body began to tremble violently as Clarke inserted a third finger, feeling Lexa's muscles tense as she pressed her fingers against her pelvic bone. Her hips moved in time with the three fingers, and then Clarke brushed Lexa's clit with her thumb gently. Suddenly, Lexa went completely still, every muscle tensed, but no sound escaped her lips as her orgasm hit. Then she relaxed with a soft moan, and Clarke carefully pulled her fingers out, bringing them to her lips.

Lexa was too far gone to see the way Clarke reveled in her taste, her scent, before they both fell fast asleep.

 


	6. Never thought I'd wait so long for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke wakes to find a warning from Lexa and heads out on a short hunting trip.

She dreamed that she was running through a dark forest. A sword in her hand and braids in her hair, she was Chaya and she was herself. And Lexa was with her, running at her side. But Lexa was Aliyah and they were in a war against the Valley People who lived to the west of Polis. Fires burned in the night and blood splattered her clothes as she cut down warrior after warrior. She was back to back with her love when a volley of flaming arrows swarmed around them, and she jerked awake with a start.

Clarke's heart was still pounding as she woke. Sunlight was filtering through the curtains and birds were chirping loudly. She groaned at how heavy her body felt and rolled over. Lexa was not in the bed with her. She hugged the pillow with Lexa's earthy scent on it to her chest.

She couldn’t go back to sleep, and could tell by the sun that it was around 9 am. Now that she was awake, the dream haunted her thoughts. She knew it was no dream but a memory of her past. After she had Soulwalked once, she had a feeling she would have the types of dreams for the rest of her life. She sighed and rolled out of the bed, searching for her clothes.   
Instead of her old and dirty things, she found a new set carefully folded on the stool Lexa had been sitting on last night. Clarke unfolded them, feeling the softness of the fabric. The tunic and pants were dark blue. There were also white undergarments in the grounder style. She put them on, relying on her memories and how Lexa had taken her own off. Lexa had unwound the fabric in a criss-cross pattern around and under her breasts, she recalled.

Clarke's thoughts of their lovemaking made her shiver, so she focused on getting dressed. She found sturdy doeskin boots under the stool, which thankfully conformed to her feet perfectly. She wondered vaguely who they had belonged to. She knew more about grounder culture and Polis society now that she had Soulwalked, including the way clothing was distributed, fitted, and recycled, as well as how servants dyed, sewed and washed things in open air stalls. Little details came to her mind, but they were outdated by over two decades, since she had not spent her fourth life here. They also tended to float away like water on the edge of her mind, flashes of knowledge she didn't truly know.

The room she had always lived in with her soulmate hadn't changed much. It was cozy with its wooden walls and fireplace, but she could tell when something was out of place. She spotted the note on the mantelpiece and quickly picked it up, her heart beating faster. She recalled that Ally liked to leave her notes there as well. She unfolded the yellowed paper clumsily.

 

_C-_

_You are summoned to the war room when you wake. I will be there all morning with the representatives of the 12 clans._

_Do not speak of last night. Do not speak of your Soulwalk. Do not hint that you understand Trigedasleng. They are awake now and always watching, listening for secrets. You are in danger here. Later, I will ask you to leave the city. You must come with me so we may speak freely. Burn this note._

_~L_

 

Clarke read the note several times in disbelief. Danger? What possible danger could she be in? She was Heda's _keryon mounon_. That had always afforded her special privilege in her previous lives. Plus, she had earned respect for her own knowledge and skills as well. There was supposedly a new alliance between both their people.

Worried and puzzled, Clarke crumpled the note and threw it into the fire. She watched it burn until she was satisfied no one could pluck it from the embers and read it, then moved to the door. She knew her way to the war room. She opened the door with confidence and strode into the hallway. Two guards flanked the door, alert and surprised at her sudden appearance.

“Good morning, Sky Princess. We were instructed to escort you to the war room,” the grounder on the right said, bowing his head submissively. Clarke opened her mouth to protest, then remembered the note.

“Please do,” she said tightly. As they walked down the halls, she pondered how much she would have to conceal at the meeting. Things were clearly not what they seemed in Polis. She couldn't understand what had changed in this lifetime, but she was determined to protect Lexa and herself from political backlash, if need be.

They walked down two flights of stairs to the ground floor of the Capitol building, which had once been a legislative hall in the old world. Its once white walls were cracked and yellowed, but beautiful vines of ivy grew up toward the ceiling, cultivated and yet beautifully wild. In the main hall, which she knew so well, stood the Commander's throne and several benches for her advisors. To the left side of the room was a staircase that led down beneath the building.

The war room had been dug out of the living rock when the second Commander was alive. It was roughly rounded with a flat ceiling and had several alcoves and places to sit carved into the walls. Shelves were also cut into the rock, and were lined with various objects and models needed to plan battles in miniature. Clarke's chest tightened as she remembered the model she and Lexa had designed to illustrate their plan to defeat Mount Weather. Her Heda had always had a gift for planning, and she always said her thoughts were easier to display for others with bits of whatever she needed to represent the players in the gamble of war. It reminded Clarke now of chess games she used to play with her father, always planning the winning move.

The table in the middle of the room was, however, noticeably absent of any small objects at the moment. Around it stood the clan representatives and Lexa. Clarke took a deep breath as every head turned her way and her escort closed the thick wooden double doors behind her.

Lexa was the first to speak. “As I was saying, Clarke of the Sky People has recently arrived in the Polis. Please welcome her to the council, as she is our new representative for the _Skaikru._ ”

Several heads dipped as she approached the table, others did not. She went to the only empty spot on the table. It just happened to be directly across from Lexa, between two bulky men who moved aside to give her room even as they towered over her. She sat on the rough hewn wooden chair provided, trying to keep her face neutral.

For a moment, no one said a word, and Clarke was sure they were all sizing her up. She decided to say something before they thought her weak.

“I have traveled for some time before arriving Polis. I apologize for my absence on behalf of my people. I hope to serve faithfully as their representative.”

Several of the other members of the council glanced at each other. One, a tall man with tattoos across the left side of his face and down his neck, spoke first.

“We are pleased to see you have joined us, Clarke of the Sky People,” he said carefully, “we heard you arrived a few days ago.”

Clarke's stomach tightened. She tried not to look at Lexa, fearing he would see something in her gaze. She had to tread carefully.

“I was sick, but am better now after a few days rest. I don't think I caught your name,” she replied.

“Its Rippon, ambassador of the Valley People,” the tall man grunted, narrowing his eyes at her.

“I believe introductions are in order before we continue our trade discussion,” the Commander announced, gesturing to the woman at her right. “Starting here and going around.”

The stout woman with coal black hair and bright blue eyes beside her nodded.

“I am Luna, Queen of the Boat People,” she claimed. Clarke felt in her gut that Luna was the most friendly of all the people at the table. Her eyes seemed to crinkle with laughter whenever she spoke.

Next was Indra, who looked just as fierce as always.

“We've met,” she growled.

“Indra!” Lexa said testily.

The dark eyed woman frowned, if possible, even deeper.

“I am Indra...interim Queen of the _Trikru_ ,” she said.

Clarke was surprised at this. She searched her memories even as the introductions carried on. The _Trikru_ hadn't had a queen when the missile hit TonDc. At the time, she hadn't thought about it, knowing little of grounder culture, society, and leadership. But now she realized that the position was usually hereditary, unless no surviving members of a royal family were living. Sometimes, Kings or Queens became despots and could be removed by a vote of the clans and backed by the current Heda's standing army. Lexa also had the power to declare regents or other temporary rulers.

The rest of the names became rather jumbled for her, but she gathered that many of the farther clans had sent ambassadors in their stead, rather than their actual leaders.

The rest of the meeting seemed mundane enough. She didn't speak, having almost nothing to contribute to conversations about trade. Not only had she been away from Camp Jaha for over a month, she also was not sure what her people could contribute bedsides guns and perhaps food from the mountain. She had a feeling the grounders didn't need either of those things. She mulled it over in her head, and almost missed the last part of the discussion.

“Please meet in the square tomorrow at sunset for the burning of our late Mauna,” Lexa requested to the group, but she looked straight at Clarke.

She tried not to let the shock show on her face, merely confusion, as though she did not know what Mauna meant. How did they not see her enter the city? What had happened after she went into the Soulwalk? She had a bevy of questions for Lexa.

The assembly bowed their heads and filed out one by one, or sat on the nearby benches to talk quietly. Clarke stood awkwardly at her chair until Lexa sent Indra away with a quiet word.

Lexa made her way over, shoulder armor gleaming in the light of an overhead chandelier.

“Clarke,” Lexa said, in that clipped way of hers, “Do you wish to join me in the afternoon hunt? A warrior's feast will be held in honor of our spiritual leader tomorrow and I am taking a party into the woods.”

Clarke looked into Lexa's eyes and tried to appear as neutral as her lover.

“I may not be much use without my gun,” Clarke replied, wondering if her past lives could grant her fighting abilities in this life. She doubted it. Memories were no replacement for years of training. Besides, Lexa's note had promised that they would talk.

“Your gun is not welcome here. You will merely need to ride.”

“Fine. When do we leave?”

“Now.”

Clarke followed her out, trying to appear as though Lexa's presence didn’t make her flush.

They stepped out a side door of the Capitol building. The sun was high in the sky, and several men with swords were waiting by the stables. An open yard with several barns baked in the sunlight, and Clarke felt grateful for her thin cotton clothing in the late summer air. She walked beside Lexa toward the nearest barn, where a black charger and a chestnut were standing sleepily in their stalls.

“Anya's horse,” Clarke breathed, greeting the chestnut mare with a soft pat. The time she had ridden to Camp Jaha on her seemed ages ago.

Lexa nodded. “She is yours now. We do not name our horses, who may fall in battle beneath us. I will help you tack her up.”

Lexa's words jogged her memory as they entered the tack room. She remembered a battle where Alina had broken her leg when her stallion had been shot in the chest by the Mountain Men's guns. With a shiver, she took the saddle and reins that Lexa offered her, draping the heavy tack over her arms and returning to the horses. She brushed Anya's horse- _my horse now_ , she reminded herself-silently. Lexa was in the stall next door. Clarke was unsure what to do next, holding the bridle in her hands. The soft leather revealed no memories to her, which caused her to be frustrated.

“Lexa,” she called, “I don't know how to do this.”

Her Commander entered the stall a few moments later to guide her through putting the bit in her mare's mouth, and how to adjust the girth of the saddle.

“She's sucking in air right now. We will walk them to the gate and tighten it further. Horses always do this when they don't want to go anywhere,” Lexa said with an affectionate smile at the mare.

Clarke was struck by her beauty as she stood there in the dust motes of the barn, sunlight streaming in from a window set high in the wall. It was hard not to kiss her right then and there.

_They are awake now and watching_ , she remembered.

She took the chestnut mare's reins and waited for Lexa to get her black horse outside before following. Several people were standing in the yard, holding their horses or picking their feet with metal hooks. They turned toward Lexa as she exited the barn.

“We were going three miles north, to the summer grounds of the deer,” Lexa announced in English, seemingly for Clarke's benefit.

The hunters looked at Clarke sidelong, as though unsure of her.

“Clarke of the Sky People rides with us,” Lexa added.

The wary looks turned to excited surprise.

“Our hunt will be successful,” one man with several missing teeth said as he grinned her way.

“Your reputation proceeds you, Sky Princess” a young woman said, looking her up and down.

She was getting tired of being called Princess. Not to mention that somehow it seemed to be wrong for grounders to call her that. But with some small amount of surprise, she realized that in their eyes, she _was_ a princess. Her mother was the Chancellor, Queen of the _Skaikru_. The thought made her feel a bit foolish, especially when she realized how much Bellamy would tease her now. For a brief moment, she missed her friends more than she could stand. 

With as much grace as she could muster, Clarke nodded to the hunters with a smile. Lexa began leading her horse toward the street and Clarke followed. Several conversations, which she should not be able to understand, drifted to her ears from behind her back. The hunters were talking quietly about the stories they had heard about her.

<<My cousin told me she ripped out the throats of 300 soldiers!>>

<<I heard she drowned the babies of the Mountain Men in their parent's blood!>>

<<I don't think she looks capable of all that...>>

<<But my cousin was at the battle!>>

<<Some battle. She took down the mountain by herself...>>

Clarke gripped her mare's reins, suddenly wishing she couldn't understand them. She focused instead on the city. Certainly it was older, but it was familiar to her. Children played beside their parent's market stalls, people swept their front stairs, and muscular men carried pots of food to share with their neighbors. The city was just as vibrant and alive as she remembered. She wondered how it would have looked to her if she didn't know her soul had always lived here. She suddenly felt very old.

They reached the gates under the constant eye of everyone who stopped to look at their Commander. Many of them began to speculate who the blonde girl was, and some even guessed right. Pretending she didn't understand the people who shouted and pointed was difficult, so she focused instead on looking at her horse, or Lexa, or the tops of the buildings. Anywhere that didn't remind her of the reputation she seemed to have among them.

The gate opened, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she checked her mare's girth. As Lexa had predicted, it needed to be tightened so she wouldn't slide off. A wooden stool beside the gate seemed to be there for her benefit as well. The other hunters simply sprung into their saddles, none more gracefully than Lexa. Cursing her weak muscles and untrained body, she got up on the wooden stool like a child and swung her right leg over the mare's back.

The stirrups were still adjusted to her from the last time she had ridden, which was good, because Lexa led the column forward almost immediately. Clarke set her jaw and tried to sit straight in the saddle. Lexa wasn't going easy on her as they traveled north, picking up speed as the city fell away behind them. They bounced along at a brisk trot for about two miles, then turned off the main road up a worn cliffside path that forced them to ride single file. Clarke struggled to keep her seat as they climbed higher. She could already feel the saddle sores setting in because she wasn't used to this.

The hunters seemed to have fallen silent now, their camaraderie forgotten as they reached the top of the windblown cliff. Lexa dismounted and the others followed, pulling out ropes to hobble the horses. Clarke had done this before, and attempted it now as though she knew what she was doing. No one seemed to care about her loose knots, however, as they pulled out weapons and gathered around Lexa. She wandered over and tried to feign ignorance as her Heda gave out commands in her native language. The other hunters gathered into groups of three.

“Clarke. You will come with me. We both count as two warriors,” Lexa said, in a light tone.

The other hunters laughed.

She couldn't help but smile as she looked at her soulmate. Even though she felt woefully inadequate, she didn’t falter as Lexa pressed a bow into her hands. Clarke tried not to raise her eyebrows in surprise. Lexa couldn't be serious. She had no idea how to use a bow, even though she knew her previous incarnations had often used them. She strapped the leather quiver and bow to her back anyway.

The groups split off north and west into the forest, leaving the young woman from earlier behind to watch the horses.

Lexa tilted her head toward the cliff.

“We'll head east along the ridge,” she said.

They set off, walking in silence. Clarke wanted to ask so many questions, but didn't know where to start. Lexa obviously did not judge it safe to speak as they picked their way along the rocky ground. Then she turned left into the woods, seemingly without warning. She threaded her way into the trees silently, then stopped at a fallen log beside a towering oak.

A moment later, Clarke caught up with her, making more noise than any forest animal. The sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead and the air was humid. Now that they were alone, she could see that Lexa's stance and mood had changed. She held out of her gloved hand with a smile, her shoulders relaxed and her other hand no longer on her sword. Clarke took the offered hand and stepped closer to embrace her brunette soulmate.

“I'm sorry about all this,” Lexa almost whispered, “It was necessary.”

“Why? Whats going on? We may be close, but I can't read your mind,” Clarke replied, stepping back to look into green eyes.

Lexa smiled a little and led her to the fallen log. It was as good as any place to talk.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update! I left my laptop in America on my trip overseas, and my phone fell in water, so I had no technology while I was away. I had to copy this chapter by hand, so it's a bit short. But there's another coming right after it. Thank you so much for reading!!


	7. Clash of Queens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa explains her past with Costia and the reason the Ice Nation is so hostile toward her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue in this one!  
> Kwin = queen in Trigedalseng

Lexa held Clarke close, as though afraid to let her go.

“There are Ice Nation spies in the Capitol. I brought you in from Mauna's hut by night in a covered wagon. Only Indra and Ryder knew you were in the city until this morning.”

Clarke felt a flutter of fear in stomach.

“You said Mauna is dead.”

“She is. She committed suicide shortly after you went into the Ether of Souls,” Lexa said, looking at the forest floor. Clarke suddenly had a feeling she knew why.

“She loved you when you were Allesandra. But she couldn't have you.”

“Yes. You were in the desert...you were flying away, lost to me...I loved no one else,” Lexa replied thickly, reaching to cup Clarke's face in her hand. Clarke suddenly remembered the plane. And the woman in the red dress.

“Celia...my fourth life...she was tricked into thinking there were no people in Mount Weather, only missiles. But there’s no more missiles now. They used the last one to bomb TonDc. There's a woman looking for weapons from the old world, Lexa.”

Her soulmate frowned. “We have more pressing concerns than what is across the Dead Zone. Namely, the Ice Queen. She will stop at nothing to hurt me. I cannot let that happen again. I won't let you end up like Costia,” she promised, kissing Clarke gently. Lost for a moment in her soft mouth, Clarke almost forgot that she came here to learn. She pulled away.

“Tell me what happened. I need to know so I can defend myself. Why does she hate you so much? I saw a vision of you and Costia being joined. There was a queen who didn’t look happy,” Clarke confessed.

Lexa looked grim. “The last vision you have on the Soulwalk is often of your current soulmate...when I was child, the last thing I saw was stars...endless stars beyond a metal cell. I saw blonde hair on a cot before I was pulled back into my own body.”

Clarke felt blood go cold. Lexa had seen the Skybox. The one place Clarke hoped burned up in the atmosphere when the Ark fell to Earth.

“You were seeing my future, if you were only ten. I was locked in a cell up there because....well, it doesn’t matter now,” she said, looking away.

“I knew Costia wasn’t my _keryon mounon_ , you know,” Lexa stated softly.

“Then why did you join with her? Why did you pretend she was?” Clarke asked, actually surprised at how hurt she felt that Lexa had joined to someone else before her.

Her lover sighed deeply and was quiet for a moment, looking into her eyes. She suddenly seemed full of words. Her short, commanding sentences were forgotten as she began to fill in the details.

“Costia and I grew up together in TonDc. We were born only a few months apart. We used to play and spend almost every waking hour together. Our mothers were friends as well. Costia's father died in battle when we were about three, and our mothers became close. My own father had died shortly before my birth. When we were ten, they sent us to Polis with five other children for our Soulwalks. The woods were dangerous then. With no _Heda_ in the capitol for over a decade, the clans were fighting against one another again. When the last Heda....when I had been alive...as Allesandra, the coalitions and treaties had fallen apart. It took six days to reach Polis. Six days with the fear of being attacked,” Lexa paused, looking up the trees over their heads.

“I never wanted my people to live in fear of traveling. This is why I fight so hard for the alliance. In every life, all my hard work seems to fall apart when I die.”

Clarke felt a wave of sadness engulf her. The cycle of life, fighting, and death seemed to be never ending. She got the chilling feeling that she and Lexa were in some ways tragically immortal, stumbling through lives but never really getting anywhere. Her soulmate continued her story.

“When we reached Polis, we found that Mauna was the de facto ruler. But several small-time warlords controlled parts of the city, denying goods and services to anyone not loyal to them. Anyone born outside the city stuck with their own clan. Fear and distrust was everywhere. We stayed with a Trikru family, just five kids and four warriors from our town. Costia and I stayed in a room together, holding each other and trying not to be afraid of the test we knew we would have to take. I...I promised I would protect her,” Lexa finished with some trouble. Her eyes were faraway, remembering a time in her life long past.

If she was honest, Clarke felt almost guilty for the way Polis and the rest of Lexa's land was at that time. When Celia left her homeland, she changed the way history would play out for Allesandra. Though she knew it wasn’t really her fault, Clarke slipped her arm around Lexa to comfort her. Lexa leaned into her before continuing.

“Costia took the test first, once I promised I would stay by her side. Mauna saw in those three days how much I loved Costia, even though we were just children. I wet her lips and held her head. Her breathing was so shallow, I was sure she was going to die on me. Costia was never a very strong child. She grew into her strength; she was not born with it. She didn't need to be strong; I always protected her. When she came back, she was disoriented. She kept calling me Alina.”

Clarke felt her breath hitch.

“She knew you?”

“She knew us. I later learned that in her first life she was my lieutenant on the ship where we had sheltered from the bombs. It was that fact alone that made our story more believable later. I hate to admit this, but I lied out of my feelings for her. I wanted her to be my soulmate. But she wasn't. When I went into my Soulwalk, I knew. But the strange vision of the stars and the prison cell couldn’t be interpreted by anyone, not even Mauna, at the time. What they did know was that I was _Heda_. They rushed me off to ceremonies and training before I even got a chance to talk to Costia. Our mothers came and moved into the Capitol with me. It wasn’t until then that I was able to request that Costia live with me as well. Her mother was the _Trikwin_.”

Now Clarke did pull away, looking Lexa in the face.

“You’re not serious?”

“I'm serious, Clarke. As you can imagine, it caused quite a stir when I announced she was my _keryon mounon_. None of my soulmates had been royalty as well. It created a new kind of power dynamic in the Capitol. Almost overnight, we had sworn warriors willing to do whatever we needed to retake the city.”

“So it was all a political move? What about Costia? Didn't she have a real soulmate?”

Lexa frowned and turned her head away. Clarke was sure this part was the hardest for her.

“Her soulmate in this life was a year older. He had gone on his Soulwalk already. Whatever it revealed to him, it must have been too much. He sickened and died. Costia saw it in her final vision.”

Clarke took Lexa's hand, unable to break physical contact with her when she was obviously struggling to continue. For a long moment, they sat in silence. The forest buzzed in the midday heat, but Clarke was sure she wasn't sweating from the sun. She was overwhelmed by a slew of emotions.

She also hoped there was more to the story, because all the pieces still weren’t in place.

“Was he the reason the _Aicekwin_ was so angry?”

Lexa brushed a hand across her face and turned to face Clarke again.

“Yes. Her name is Nia. Costia's soulmate's sister.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows.

“How did she know?”

“He drew her repeatedly in his fever dreams before he died. He didn't know her name. But when the _Aicekwin_ traveled to Polis for my swearing in ceremony, she knew right away who Costia was. At a feast that night, Nia asked me to speak with her privately. In an effort to forge peace, I assumed she wanted to talk to me about treaties and was more than happy to grant her an audience. When she showed me her brother's notebook, I told her I was not surprised. Costia had already told me about the boy. Nia became angry, saying that continuation of the royal lines was more important than my childish fantasies. I tried to calm her, but also stayed firm that when we were of age, I would marry Costia regardless. Though she was twice our age, Nia insisted that Costia be joined to her instead, ensuring the royal influence would stay in the Ice Nation. I refused. She pulled a knife on me, threatening to kill me before I had a chance to take control of any armies. I did not flinch or react, but I was unarmed. She nicked my neck, reminding me that blood must have blood. That whole encounter reminded me not to ever be unarmed again, especially in meetings with royals or their ambassadors.”

Clarke smiled slightly.

“So you _were_ young once,” she joked in an effort to lighten the mood.

Lexa only frowned more deeply.

“Clarke, this is serious. All those events from the past, they're going to play out again if we are not careful.”


	8. Things are not what they seem, as we stand at the edge of the world.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke's continue talking, but don't notice a danger awaiting them.

Clarke felt a chill run up her back. She couldn't imagine what Lexa meant by the past repeating itself. She could only be talking about Costia. Clarke remembered when Lexa told her the Ice Queen had wanted Costia because she knew Lexa's secrets. Knowing what sort of secrets Lexa carried now, about the missile, about the war, about their relationship, Clarke suddenly understood why they were in danger.

“Your people can't ever know, can they?” she asked quietly.

Lexa turned away, walking to a nearby tree and running her hand over the bark. Clarke felt her heart breaking at the defeated slump of Lexa's shoulders.

“They think Costia was my soulmate. If I told them otherwise now, it would expose many other lies,” Lexa stated after a moment.

A rush of emotions caused hot tears to sting her eyes. She knew now that she could never be open about her past lives and her Soulwalk. She could never tell the people of Polis, who were truly her people in spirit.

Worst of all, she could never be bonded publicly to Lexa in this life, never wear the symbols of their relationship, and stand by her lover's side.

“You betrayed me in this life,” she said aloud, “instead of the other way around.”

Lexa pressed her forehead to the bark of the tree, as if she could not face Clarke.

“I know,” she whispered.

“Does it feel any better than every other time?” Clarke wondered aloud.

“No,” Lexa replied forcefully. Her head hung in defeat.

Clarke knew her past lives had been filled with regret over the ways she had betrayed her Heda. Chloe and the Boat people, Celia and A.L.I.E. and the plane. Chaya, she suddenly recalled, had used her power as Heda's partner to remove her own mother from the Ice Throne without Aliyah's permission, sparking a war for the crown and a change in the way power was wielded by the royals. Each time, her soul had done what she felt what was right, but what ultimately turned out to be selfish.

Clarke suddenly realized she could not stay in Polis. She was endangering both of them by pretending that she was simply Clarke of the Sky People. She was so much more than that now. The reality of the situation hurt more than she ever imagined it would. She wished Polis could be her home and shelter in this life as it always had been before.

She stood up, taking a tentative step toward where Lexa was standing. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. 

“You may not have known I was going to come down to Earth, but you could have been less selfish,” she said heatedly. She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but it felt good, somehow, to get it all out. “I have lied for you, I have fought with you, I even tried to get you to feel again, Lexa! But it's all worth nothing. Because Costia was there first. So what? You just bonded with the first girl who came along? Because it was easier than waiting for me to fall from the goddamn sky?!”

By the way she stood, feet apart and head down, she could tell Lexa was feeling regret. She had made a decision long ago, and now she had to answer for it. Clarke certainly wasn't going to kill Lexa, as her soulmate had punished her in the past. She was just angry about the complications they had to face as a result of Lexa's love for Costia.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” her dark haired soulmate said, finally turning.

Just as she was about to reply, Lexa's eyes got wide as she saw something beyond Clarke's right shoulder.

“Get down!” she cried, too late.

Clarke felt something huge, heavy, and hairy collide into her, knocking her forward into the leaves and dirt. She struggled to face her attacker, and found herself staring into the bright yellow eyes of a giant feline.

“ _Feisripa_!” she heard Lexa shout over the sound of the animal's roar.

 _Tiger_ , her mind processed, even as she brought her arms up to protect her face. The cat's sharp fangs sunk into her left forearm with a sting like a thousand blunt needles. Clarke screamed in agony, kicking her legs against the lean muscles of the tiger's belly, struggling to get free of the cat's weight. She felt her bones contact with teeth as the cat's jaws held on. Suddenly, she felt a warm rush as blood spurted from the back of the cat's neck. Drops of hot blood stained the forest floor, and Clarke felt the pressure on her body lift.

The tiger, angry at the gash on its neck from Lexa's sword, swung its giant paw at the brunette with its claws extended. Then the beast turned to face her, tail swinging back and forth. It let out another ear shattering roar and lunged at the Commander. Lexa leaped out of the way gracefully, bringing the sword down across the tiger's back. The cat didn't even seem to notice the two bleeding wounds on its body.

“Run, Clarke!” Lexa cried desperately, putting herself between the blonde and the cat, sword raised and legs bent in an attack stance.

Clarke put aside the searing pain in her left arm and somehow pushed herself to her feet. She backed up several paces, watching as the tiger and Lexa circled one another. Wincing, she searched the clearing for anything she could use to help. The bow she had had on her back lay forgotten in the leaves. The arrows were leaning against the stump. She had the wild thought that maybe she could grab them and use them.

Caught up in the moment, she didn’t feel the hands close around her mouth until it was too late.

<<Got you, Sky Princess,>> a female voice said triumphantly in her ear. Clarke struggled as the woman pulled her away from Lexa through the trees, her injured arm hanging useless at her side and her right arm pinned painfully behind her back.

“Scream and you die,” the woman said in English, taking her hand away from Clarke's mouth. She pressed a dagger to the soft skin of Clarke's neck.

The sound of the tiger's roar became distant as they left the shady woods and approached the sandstone cliff. In the bright sunlight, Clarke caught sight of her attacker out of the corner of her eye. She was the young woman who was supposed to be guarding the horses. Clarke realized that she didn’t know the woman's name, only that she had ridden in the back of the hunter's column. The others hadn't seemed to know her either, neither jesting nor speaking to her.

“You weren't supposed to be in this hunting party, were you?” Clarke asked, hoping to stall for time.

“No,” the woman growled, “Heda Alexandria was so distracted she didn't even question my presence. She is weak and stupid, blinded by her affection for you. We all know when we saw in TonDc. She will die today as well.”

Clarke tried to shake her good arm free as her feet stumbled on the rocks around the rim of the canyon. The woman's grip was like iron.  Below them, what looked like a quarry seemed to stretch for miles, with the thick forest around it.

“You were in the battle? Do I know you?” Clarke inquired, leaning into the woman to keep her balance on the edge of the cliff.

“Shut up! You die now!”

 _At least I can be with my soulmate in the next life_ , she thought briefly, bitterly.

But she didn't die.

The women suddenly grunted in pain. Clarke felt her grip loosen. Stumbling forward, Clarke struggled to keep her balance with a cry of fear. The steep canyon walls filled her vision. Heart thudding in her ears, she grabbed onto the woman's shirt as they both tipped backward.

As they fell, Clarke struggled to pin her down. The woman's knife flashed in the sun. She grabbed for it, hoping to wrest it from the woman's grasp. It slashed open her right sleeve but didn't draw blood as Clarke squeezed and bore down on the woman's neck. She slid her fingers around the hilt, finally getting enough grip to wrench it away from the woman.

“Clarke!” Lexa cried, emerging from the woods carrying the bow and quiver of arrows. She was covered in blood, and murder was in her eyes. The woman underneath Clarke twisted in her grasp, an arrow lodged in her leg. Lexa dropped the bow in the dirt and pulled the woman to her feet by her hair. Clarke rolled onto her knees, feeling dizzy. The height of the cliff had reminded her, for just a second, of her fall through space, and of Celia crashing into the sand.

She wretched into the dirt, dropping the knife. Distantly, she could hear Lexa yelling.

“Who are you? Who sent you?”

“I'm not telling you anything,” The woman hissed.

There was a sharp slap as Clarke wretched again, heaving up the berries and bread she had snacked on during their ride to the hunting grounds.

<<I'm going to ask you again. You _will_ answer me! >>Lexa tried in Trigedasleng, <<Who are you? Who sent you here?>>

Taking a deep breath to ease her heaving stomach, Clarke finally looked up. Lexa had the woman's arms behind her back. Her wild black hair was full of dirt and blood from her struggle with Clarke. She had deep black eyes and pale skin, and was wearing clothes in various shades of green and brown. On her feet were a pair of black leather boots. Clarke staggered to her feet with the woman's knife in her hand, trying to ignore the profuse blood loss from her arm.

The woman began to laugh wickedly.

<<I lured to the tiger to you. How tragic it would have been if you were both eaten>> she taunted, not answering Lexa's question.

Clarke glanced at Lexa, who was still restraining the woman. As she approached, she gripped the knife tightly in her right hand.

<<You will answer your Commander. You will tell us what we want to know, or I will kill you.>> Clarke ordered.

The woman's eyes got wide.

<<You speak our language?>> she asked in surprise.

“Clarke,” Lexa said with warning in her voice.

But adrenaline was still pumping through her veins. She felt hot and cold all over, and she was mad. Madder than she could ever recall having been. This woman had tried to kill them and make it look like an accident. Clarke had the fleeting thought that it was not the first assassination attempt she and her soulmate had endured. Worse, it meant that there would be more when this woman failed. She had probably overheard them talking in the forest, which meant she knew too much. They couldn't take the risk of letting her go alive.

Clarke pressed the dagger to the woman's throat menacingly.

<<You are not Trikru, are you? I don't think so. This knife is made from folded steel with a wooden handle. You only find this sort of knife in the north. So why are you lying?>>

The woman's eyes widened. Her eyes cast to the left, a classic sign of being caught in a lie. Clarke had learned to read faces in her time on the ground, and now it was tempered by the experience of her past lives.

<<You don't know anything!>> the woman growled.

<She's useless to us. Kill her!>> Lexa demanded.

Clarke leaned forward and pressed the knife to the woman's neck, drawing a thin line of blood. The woman's black eyes clouded with fear briefly. Then she steeled herself.

<Do it>> she said, <<You know you want to.>>

Clarke hesitated, pulling the knife back slightly. The woman leaned into it, pulling at Lexa's grip.

<<Murderer!>> The woman shouted as she twisted sharply, cutting her own neck open on the knife. Lexa struggled with her briefly as Clarke stood, immobilized in shock. A total stranger had accused her of being exactly what she was and somehow that hurt more than Bellamy's empty forgiveness.

Breaking free of Lexa's grip, the woman nearly knocked Clarke over as she ran forward, right off the edge of the cliff. Lexa grabbed Clarke's sleeve to hold her steady. Clarke turned, wide eyed, as a soft thud echoed through the canyon.

Lexa came forward and pulled Clarke to her chest and away from the edge, ignoring the blood covering them both. The knife fell from Clarke's hand as she suddenly broke down. On the rim of the cliff in the early fall sunlight, Clarke cried. Deep, racking sobs escaped her and she couldn't stop them.

She sobbed until she was weak in the knees, and Lexa held her as they sank back to the dirt. Images flashed through her head. Images of fire and death and blood and skin marked by radiation. Images of faces: Finn, Fox, Anya, everyone she couldn't save. She welcomed them. She mourned for them with her whole body, her chest burning and her stomach tying in knots.

  
And still Lexa held her. Held her like she would never let go, softly stroking her blonde hair that was tangled and matted and full of dirt. Clarke had never felt so comforted, except maybe by her mother. But this was different. Lexa knew. Lexa knew why Clarke couldn't stand to kill anymore. And Lexa knew that sometimes if was unavoidable to kill someone so that those you love might live. To protect themselves so they could fight another day. Sometimes, that was all they could do

  
" _Ai hod yu in_ ," Lexa whispered.  
Clarke felt embarrassed as she looked up at Lexa, face wet with tears and snot and blood, but Lexa just kissed her forehead. And instinctively, she knew just what to say. Her anger at Lexa, the betrayal she felt, the pain that they could not truly be together, dissolved.  
" _Ai hod yu in, aus_ ."  
Lexa smiled, a truly genuine smile. The blood smeared across her face reminded Clarke of the night Lexa turned her back and walked away, causing Clarke's heart to skip a beat. But now she was here, and that was all Clarke could hope for.

  

"Can you walk?" Lexa asked gently.  
Clarke nodded. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her tunic, picked up the knife, and allowed Lexa to pull her to her feet. With her arm still wrapped protectively around Clarke's waist, Lexa looked over the cliff with a frown.  
"This is almost exactly where I jumped. When I was Allessandra."

Clarke sucked in a breath at the stab of pain she felt. Would it always be like this? Reminders of their past failures bubbling to the surface at the most unexpected times was like a punch in the gut. For a second, she almost wished she was ignorant of their past. But she also knew she might not be alive right now if she hadn't ever Soulwalked.  
"That wouldn't have happened if I was...if Celia was with you," she replied.  
Lexa turned her head to regard Clarke.  
"You're here now," she said.  
Clarke just nodded. There was no point on dwelling on it further.

  
They started walking west along the cliff toward where the horses were tethered.  
"Let me do the talking," Lexa soothed quietly, "You just rest. We'll get the first aid kit and collect the bodies."  
Clarke felt cold and numb. Collecting bodies was normal to her now. She was still a killer, still a leader, and she knew somehow that the more souls she caused to return to The Ether, the more she lost a part of herself. But Lexa knew how to keep going. Maybe it was her training, or simply part of her spirit, but she always was able to shrug off disaster as if it were nothing. Clarke wondered if she could ever do the same. In all of their lives, she hadn't mastered it yet.

  
"I won't be able to hold the reins," Clarke realized aloud, referring to the throbbing pain in her left arm.  
"You can ride with me. We need the horses to carry the kills anyway. We're not the only ones who got something," Lexa said with a hint of pride as they limped out the the tree line toward the clearing where the horses were.

  
The other hunters had returned and were chatting amongst themselves, their kills piled in the clearing. A cry went up when they spotted the two women. They ran to help, chattering away in a mixture of languages. Clarke hardly noticed. She had lost a lot of blood. Even as strong arms took her from Lexa's grasp, she had enough sense to keep the knife she had taken from the assassin up her sleeve. She would trust no one.

 

The sun had gone down and the hunters lit torches as they prepared to leave. One of them bandaged her arm and helped her sit down with her back against a tree. Clarke watched his hands as he wrapped soft cotton over her shredded skin after dabbing on some sort of green poultice. They didn't speak, but Clarke decided not to get friendly. She didn't know if the woman had an accomplice amongst the group. Lexa had taken a party into the woods along the cliff to retrieve the tiger carcass. She had been talking animatedly, recounting the story. Clarke knew she was skewing the truth, but somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Lexa returned a little while later with a stick and offered it to Clarke.

She raised her eyebrow. “Um, thanks?”

“Chew it,” Lexa urged, “it will take the bad taste out of your mouth.”

Hesitating, Clarke chewed the twig. It had white speckles against brown bark. With a start, she realized it tasted exactly like the peppermint toothpaste she used to have on the Ark. She broke off a piece, biting into a fresh strip of bark. It scraped against her teeth, and when she swallowed, the taste of vomit left her mouth as Lexa had promised. Her teeth suddenly felt cleaner than they had in months.

Finally, when the horses were weighed down by three deer, a tiger, 6 rabbits, and four birds Clarke couldn't recognize, the hunters mounted up. Lexa came back over to where Clarke was resting.  
"Are you ready?" she asked. Clarke nodded slightly and held out her good arm. Lexa helped Clarke mount, then jumped up behind her. As they rode away, Clarke relaxed into Lexa, letting the gentle rocking of the horse's gait soothe her. Her mind was telling her to be alert, but she found herself drifting off regardless.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took a long time to get up...this chapter was difficult to write. I ended up revising and making minor tweaks after I published it.  
> The >> arrows indicate Trigedalseng. Except "Ai hod yu in," which means "I love you."  
> By the way, if you want to say hi, or talk to me about the story, or whatever, you can also find me on Tumblr [under the same name](http://clarkespastlife.tumblr.com/)


	9. Enough is not the same it was before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa arrive back in Polis. They clean themselves of blood and Clarke discovers her sleeping arrangements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NOT SAFE FOR WORK! There are mature adult depictions in it.  
> I'm so sorry this has taken so long to write, but real life has been kind of crazy for me lately. My updates may be farther between than they were before, but I promise this story is not dead! Bear with me and it will keep going as long as I can write it. Thank you so much for your patience, subscriptions/bookmarks, and comments, they really mean a lot to me.

There was a constant murmuring of voices in the dark, but Clarke was warm and comfortable. Lexa's regular breathing and soft woody scent wrapped around her as the horse plodded to a stop. Lexa spoke softly in Trigedasleng, her voice seeming to echo in Clarke’s spine.

<<Take all the pelts and have them cleaned. I expect to pick up the hides in a month's time. Send the meat to the butcher for the feast.>>

There was a soft answer from Clarke's left, a woman's voice that sounded subservient. Then they were moving again, and the murmur of voices lessened. The hunters muttered parting words, and Clarke was almost certain she and Lexa were alone. She finally roused herself from her semi-conscious state when Lexa placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Clarke. We are back at the Capitol.”

She blinked her eyes several times, noticing that they were in the yard in front of the barn. Her mare was standing silently next to Lexa's horse, attached by a tether. She tried to move and groaned. Her arm felt like it was on fire. Lexa jumped out of the saddle and Clarke took her offered hand, feeling empty of the warmth she had felt when pressed against her soulmate. She manged to slide off the horse but in a moment of panic, she realized too late that she couldn’t catch herself.

Lexa's strong arms wrapped around her waist, catching her in mid fall. Clarke found herself face to face with the Commander, her black warpaint shadowing her face in the dim light of a torch from the nearby barn. Without thinking, Clarke leaned forward to kiss her soulmate, aching for intimate contact.

There was a soft cough from nearby. A stable boy was holding a lantern and quietly asked if he could take their horses. Lexa practically jumped back from Clarke as though burned. She nodded solemnly, her gaze glowering as if she was daring the boy to say anything. As he gathered the reins, Clarke caught Lexa's eye and they headed into the Capitol building.

“You will be staying on the third floor, Sky Princess. There is a separate wing for all visiting dignitaries. Unfortunately, there is not a thirteenth ambassador apartment, as there have only ever been twelve clans,” Lexa said formally as they entered, and Clarke felt it was more for the guard's ears than her own. The building felt quiet, but eyes seemed to lurk everywhere. Lexa stopped abruptly in front of a solid oak door and Clarke started visibly. After the attempt on their lives, she was feeling particularly jumpy.

“Why aren't we going to the third floor, then?” she inquired in barely more than a whisper.

“I believe we could both benefit from a bath,” Lexa said, and a soft smile lit her features. Clarke glanced around, as if spies could see her expression. She felt paranoid about any sort of affection being shown between them.

“I would like that,” she said honestly. She felt grimy and the blood on her clothes made her feel more gross than it ever had before. Watching a woman with a slit throat jump off a cliff had brought back memories of her first few weeks on the ground, and she would rather wash those reminders away.

Lexa pulled the door open and Clarke followed. She couldn’t help glancing behind her once again as the door closed softly. No one was there.

She found herself following Lexa down a steep set of stairs, and the flickering torches set into square alcoves suddenly reminded her of how many times she had been down here.

“The hot springs,” she whispered, half to herself, the words sounding dull in her ears, muted by layers of rock.

“Yes, Clarke. Several natural springs surfaced under this building and around the city after the bombs fell, causing sinkholes and explosions of hot air. We have since rebuilt to accommodate this.”

Lexa's words were unnecessary, because Clarke remembered. She remembered the people trapped and burned by bursts of hot air during the reconstruction of Polis. She remember how eventually, they had contained the pools and carved around them, leaving plenty of air flow in the caverns where they were located so that more lives would not be lost. As they reached the bottom of the staircase, Clarke also remembered that these were Heda's private bath chambers. There were three pools irregularly laid out in a large cavern. She remembered how many times she had been here before.

“Lexa...I know-” Clarke started, wanting to express the flood of memories. But she never finished her sentence, because her soulmate kissed her. For a moment, their passionate embrace was everything Clarke knew, and there was no future and no past, no body, just two souls who were one. Before she knew it, Lexa had started to pull her clothing off, being surprisingly gentle with Clarke's arm, even as she captured Clarke's lower lip in a sharp bite. Clarke let her own hands roam, undoing Lexa's armor buckles as if she had been doing so her whole life. Their fumbling fingers caused several soft giggles to be shared between their mouths.

Lexa took her hand when she was naked and led her to a pool on the far left. It was the largest and hottest of the three. A wet mist hung in the room, smelling of sulfur and rotting plants. Thick beds of white albino moss glowed in the parts of the cavern that weren’t lit by torches. She didn’t have time to contemplate how the plants survived in the dark before she found herself ankle deep in scalding hot water. Lexa was up to her waist, her pointed breasts proudly sticking out and the tips of her long brown hair floating on the surface. Clarke hissed as she moved toward her soulmate, the water seeming to burn her alive. Lexa carefully lifted handfuls of water to her face, washing away the greasy war paint around her eyes. All she really did was succeed in smearing it all over her, which would have been comical if Clarke wasn’t reminded of how it ran down her face in the rain during battle. She shivered despite the humidity in the air at the thought, finding her lips on Lexa's yet again as she moved deeper into the pool. The smooth black stones of the spring seemed to scorch the soles of her feet as Lexa's rough hands wrapped around her back, pulling the blonde protectively to her as they both acclimated to the water. Lexa softly kissed Clarke's neck and whispered in her ear.

“Would you like me to wash your hair?”

“Yes, please,” Clarke practically groaned. She wanted to be clean so badly, and now she also wanted Lexa to keep touching her. She found it not at all surprising that they had had sex down in this cavern more times than she could count in their past lives. Her body hummed with anticipation at the thought as she sat on a bench-like rock formation on the right side of the pool. Lexa reached behind a rock and pulled out a basket covered in seal skin. She walked slowly over and sat next to Clarke while opening the basket. Several clinks of glass bottles later, Clarke realized her hair was still dry. She turned to Lexa and looked at her.

“I need to get wet,” she said with a smirk. Lexa quirked an eyebrow at this, and Clarke almost laughed at how playful she suddenly felt. After everything that had happened that day, she couldn't believe she was joking in the bath with her soulmate as though they didn’t have death threats hanging over their heads. Holding her arm above her head so the bandages wouldn’t get wet, Clarke leaned back into the water, submerging herself and giving Lexa a wonderful view of her full breasts. She slowly swished her head, reveling in the feeling of her hair floating and tickling her neck. The hot water seemed to scald her scalp even more than the rest of her skin, but she felt better for it.

When she was sure her hair was wet enough, she leaned forward again, catching Lexa's steady gaze. The smear of paint around her eyes no longer made Lexa look funny or scary, it made her stare seem more lustful. Clarke felt a surge of love and trust for the Commander, even after the betrayal that nearly tore them apart for good. She didn’t know how long this peace would last. It seemed like forever since she wasn’t scared, wasn’t fighting. And she was sure Lexa felt the same. They were both fighting an internal battle, one they might never win, between love and pain, hurt and happiness. As Clarke sat back down on the bench and Lexa softly ran her hands through her hair, she decided that living in the moment was all they had.

After planting a soft kiss on her shoulder that sent shivers down Clarke's spine despite the heat of the water, Lexa soaped up her hands with some sort of shampoo that smelled faintly of lilies. Clarke remembered the white lilies Lincoln used to leave for Octavia and smiled. Their love was so organic and true, the way they interacted always so loving. She suddenly realized something.

“Lexa?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Lincoln knew Octavia was his _keryon mounon_ as soon as he saw her, didn’t he?”

Lexa's fingers paused in their lathering.

“He knew,” Lexa replied throatily.

“Did he tell her?”

“I don't believe he has.”

Clarke's heart raced. There could be others with hidden pasts who didn’t even know.

“What _do_ you believe?”

There was a pause as Lexa's fingers resumed their movement.

“Sometimes those who can remember who they were when the bombs fell are called “old ones,” while those who cannot remember any lives are called “empty children.” The empty children were often seen as lucky, as their fate was not tied to the horror of the past, and they have not felt the pain of losing their loved ones. My people, who were also yours, believe in a vast 'Ether' full of souls, and a goddess who is the gatekeeper. When a new life was born, the goddess chooses if certain souls are reincarnated, or if a new soul will enter the cycle. There are not enough living people in the world to hold all the souls there were before the bombs fell, so the goddess must choose.”

Clarke had known some of this from her memories. It was a common belief, one which she felt could understand. It made her head spin at the vast implications the belief held for all living people, no matter their clan or place of birth.

“I'm not the only soul who went to the sky,” Clarke whispered at last.

“No. But you are the first from the sky to Soulwalk. How many of your people may remember their time among mine if given the chance?”

“But we can't give them that chance, can we?”

Lexa sighed heavily.

“It is complicated, Clarke. With Mauna dead and the alliance with your people being so new, it is unlikely that any of my people would trust yours with the machine. Moreover, I doubt many of yours would jump at the chance to Soulwalk. They do not believe us.”

Clarke contemplated this for a moment as Lexa continued to knead her hair. The relaxing feel of her hands made it hard to concentrate.

“You're probably right,” she concluded at last.

“Your hair is clean now,” Lexa responded, effectively ending the conversation.

Clarke felt Lexa shift, and turned her head slightly at the sound. Lexa grabbed a large carved cup from the basket and began slowly scooping and pouring water over her clean blonde hair. The process was slow, methodical, and infinitely soothing. In fact, it felt almost holy, the way she imagined people must have always felt when being cleansed, literally and metaphorically, by the healing power of water. The Ark had always had a water shortage, living on recycled water that was decades old. Her father had always joked that they were bathing in their grandparent's piss. But the water on the ground was pure and never in short supply, unless you went to the dead zone.  
Clarke suddenly wished that she was more like water. She wished she was not like the destructive power of fire, burning skin and forests. She wished she could fit the pieces together of who she had become when she went on her Soulwalk. She felt as if she was not even capable of living the legacy her soul embodied, as if the circumstances of her current relationship with Lexa made her a personal failure.  
She knew none of these thoughts would help her to heal, however, so she pushed them aside. She focused on the gentle rhythm of Lexa's fingertips weaving through her hair, cleaning the suds and scouring her scalp with searing heat. For her part, the young Commander was silent, as though the cleaning was a ritual best left for the silence.  
When she put aside the cup, however, the mood suddenly changed dramatically. Lexa reached forward, pulling Clarke to her. Her hands wandered up Clarke’s sides and her chin rested on the blonde girl's left shoulder as she whispered, "Do you remember what we used to do in here?"  
Clarke shivered at the caress, the words igniting memories of wet and wild lovemaking that had echoed off the walls of the cave. Feeling a stirring inside her, Clarke grabbed Lexa's hands and placed them firmly against her breasts. She knew Lexa wanted to tease her but she wanted to get right to the point.  
"How could I forget?" She purred.  
Lexa chuckled softly and pulled Clarke closer, rolling her nipples between her fingertips. Every tug seemed to go straight to Clarke's core, causing a soft moan to escape from her mouth. Lexa softly bit down on Clarke’s earlobe, making Clarke gasp in surprise. With Lexa's breasts pressing into her back, Clarke couldn't help but fumble for a handhold to steady herself. Keeping her bandaged arm out of thw water, she pressed her hands to a slick rock jutting out in front of her. It provided anchorage as Lexa pushed her forward, causing her to shift to her knees. Lexa kissed down Clarke’s back, her damp hair brushing Clarke’s sides and tickling her. The kisses turned into sharp little bites as Lexa slid her right hand up Clarke’s inner thighs, stroking her skin gently. Clarke found her body half out of the water, exposed and very, very ready to be touched.   
But then Lexa stopped, eliciting a whimper and an angry look from Clarke as she cast a glance over her shoulder. Lexa grinned wickedly.

“How much do you want me?”

Clarke groaned. She was never quite sure how to answer this question.

“I don't want you, I _need_ you,” she replied hoarsely.

Lexa ran her hands over Clarke's backside, a soft chuckle escaping her pouty mouth. She traced her fingers ever so slowly down, until she softly brushed Clarke's clit. A shock wave of sensation jolted through Clarke's veins and she arched her back, her knees digging into the rock and her palms pressing harder against the edge of the pool. Lexa touched her again, her fingers becoming slick as she ran them up and down Clarke's slit. The varying pressure of Lexa's fingers against her clit made her moan softly, the sound reverberating around them.

“Lexa, please...Inside...” she gasped, reaching between her legs and grabbing Lexa's wrist. She cried out as she guided Lexa's fingers into her opening, bucking back against the pressure. Lexa moved closer, pressing her thighs against the back of Clarke's, rapidly moving her fingers in and out. Clarke's cries became louder, echoing off the stone walls and seeming to surround them in a chorus of moans. Lexa even groaned softly with the effort, her fingers gyrating quickly through Clarke's wetness.

Clarke felt Lexa's fingers press against the inside of her in just the right spot, causing a gasping cry to escape her. She felt like Lexa had hit her very core, causing a feeling so pleasurable that it almost hurt. Lexa reached forward with her left hand and grabbed Clarke's breast, tugging on her nipple. Clarke felt her release coming fast and strong. She felt her legs shake as she cried out, Lexa still pressed firmly against her back, hand kneading her breast furiously. She saw stars as she came in Lexa's hand, gasping for air.

“Stop...I...” Clarke managed to stutter out, even as Lexa pulled Clarke to her, removing her fingers slowly. Lexa wrapped her in a warm embrace as the water settled around them. The shudders of her orgasm were still pulsing in her veins even as she pushed Lexa against the stones at the edge of the hot spring. She wanted to do to Lexa what she had just felt. Her only thought was to make Lexa feel good as she positioned her on a rock just out of the water, her eyes communicating her need to please. Lexa bit her lip, not used to being overpowered, as Clarke settled into the hot water between Lexa's knees.

The smell of sulfur in the air mingled with the tang of Lexa's wetness as Clarke kissed her way over the soft skin of Lexa's thighs. Her toned muscles rippled with anticipation as she reached down to stroke Clarke's clean, damp hair. Feeling the encouragement with a smile, Clarke took a deep breath as she softly licked between Lexa's legs, searching for the spots that would make her Commander squirm. After a few fumbling licks and bumps with her nose, Lexa stiffened as Clarke softly touched her clit with the tip of her tongue.

Lexa's hands tangled deeper into Clarke's hair, pushing her face further into the downy wetness of her center. Clarke tried to remember what had felt good the previous night, how Lexa had licked her and made her explode. She found herself just following her instincts, relying on memories of what felt right. Before she knew it, she felt herself giving over to the scent, the taste, the feelings on her tongue as she wrote stories over Lexa's center. Lexa moaned softly, and when Clarke inserted two fingers into Lexa's slick center, the stoic brunette actually whimpered. It was a high pitched sound that Clarke could not ever imagine coming from her Heda in any lifetime.

Sensing the building of Lexa's arousal, Clarke curved her fingers and slid them in and out of Lexa, licking her clit relentlessly. This went on for what seemed like ages as Lexa shuddered and moaned at each touch. Before they both knew it, Lexa was bucking hard on Clarke's fingers, crying out loud, and pressing Clarke's head to her swollen clit. Clarke felt a flood of warm wetness seep onto her hands as Lexa's muscles closed around her fingers in one swift climax. She backed off, removing her fingers and kissing up Lexa's stomach. She rose out of the water, standing and taking Lexa's face in her hands. They stared at each other for a long moment, both breathing heavily in the damp air.

They kissed softly, tasting of sulfur and earth, wetness and salt. Clarke's limbs ached with the exertion, prompting her to sink back down into the water to sit on the natural bench created by the rocks there. Wordlessly, Lexa slipped down beside her with a soft groan, as though she had released the weight of her troubles for a few short minutes and now felt them returning.

“We should finish washing. The feast is tomorrow at sundown. We must be rested,” Lexa stated quietly, as though pushing air through her lungs was difficult.

Clarke nodded, bringing water to her chin and face, washing away the wetness that was Lexa's cum. Lexa took small bars of purple and white soap from the seal skin basket and handed them to Clarke. There was a comfortable silence as they cleaned themselves, the smell of lilacs drifting in the hot air. She watched Lexa unwind her braids one by one and clean her hair. It was mesmerizing but Clarke ended up getting out of the water so she would not be lulled to sleep.

She found soft towels on a shelf nearby, where she somehow knew they would be. They were damp like everything else, but they wicked away the drops of water on her body well enough. Lexa hummed softly, watching Clarke dry off while soaping her hair. She rinsed it out by swimming, her long brown hair like tendrils and roots around her.

Clarke sat on a stone bench and smiled, content in this moment with the easiness between them. When Lexa emerged from the water, Clarke went to her, holding out a towel and wrapping it around her middle. Lexa smiled and softly kissed her cheek, drying herself carefully. It was a moment of peace they were unlikely to experience often, and Clarke treasured it. She looked around the cavern, taking in the lights on the water and the steam that made it hard to see.

Near a pile of while moss, she spotted the pile of clothing they had left behind and frowned.

“Um...Lexa?” she whispered, feeling like being too loud would cause undue echoes.

“Yes?”

“What about our clothes? We have to go back upstairs...”

Lexa grinned suddenly, her green eyes dancing in the torchlight.

“You don't remember?”

“Remember what?”

Lexa's smile only got wider as she began to walk away. Without a word, she was swallowed by the white fog.

“Hey, what the hell?!” Clarke called, following Lexa into the mist, her bare feet brushing over soft moss and sloshing through puddles of water. She could barely see a foot in front of her as she rounded a rocky outcropping on the right side of the chamber. A black hole in the wall greeted her.

“Lexa?” she called softly. There was no answer.

Clarke walked forward, hoping the opening wouldn't close on her. Sure enough, the hidden rock door ground to a close behind her and she found herself encased in a smothering blackness. She felt her heart pounding in her ears, and pulled her thin towel closer around herself. She took a few tentative steps forward, finding smooth stone beneath her toes. The passage echoed with each step, and a soft dripping sound seemed to surround her. She wondered where the hell Lexa had gone, but hoped there was only one way the passage could lead. It sloped gently upward, and Clarke hoped it led back to the main building.

Alone in the darkness, Clarke's memories did not seem to want to aid her. She had no idea where the passage led. She could only hope she wouldn't find herself in nothing but a towel in front of strangers at the top of the passage. She groped the stone walls with one hand, holding her towel to her with the other. She stumbled once, and cursed when her toe contacted a rock. Her swears echoed around her, seeming to mock her.

“If this is your idea of a joke, Lexa, I don't think its funny,” she muttered, directing her voice up the passage in front of her.

“It's no joke,” Lexa voice replied, as if disembodied, from somewhere to her right. Clarke nearly screamed in surprise, gripping the wall so hard she was sure the rock would cut her. A torch flared to life, blinding her. Lexa stood there, holding a robe of soft blue cotton out in front of her. She wore a clean white one herself, seeming to glow in the dim passage. Gratefully, Clarke took it from her, covering her nudity sheepishly.

“That was a dirty trick,” she growled, pulling Lexa by the collar of her robe into a fierce kiss. Her heart was still hammering, but she was grateful that everything was fine.

Lexa kiss her back, then pulled away and titled her head to the side.

“I did nothing wrong. I am surprised you did not remember the passage Chloe had dug from our chamber to the hot springs underground. She even engineered the hidden door herself.”

Clarke frowned. That particular memory didn't seem to mean anything to her. She wondered why that was, but made a mental note to wonder at it later. She watched Lexa pull a complex weighted lever to the left of where the robes hung on the wall.

“Few know of the passage, for obvious reasons,” Lexa stated, stepping through another dark passage. It was small and jagged, and Clarke tried to not scrape her head on the top as she scrambled trough the hole. The room beyond was cold and dark, but Clarke could recognize the shape of the furniture once her eyes adjusted.

“Our room?” she asked in surprise. She realized they had just emerged from behind the fireplace.

“I thought you said I was staying in the ambassador’s chambers,” Clarke said, folding her arms in front of her. Lexa began lighting candles around the room with a long stick.

“You are,” she replied.

“There are guards outside the door. Won't they see me go out?” Clarke asked. “They might talk, tell people were having some kind of late night meeting.”

“They will not say anything. They know the penalty for sharing my nocturnal movements is death,” Lexa said coldly. “Your room is right across the hall.”

Clarke wandered over to the bed, sinking into the furs. She stared at the floor for several long moments while Lexa lit a fire.

“Why does this have to be so hard?” she finally asked, more to herself than to Lexa.

“It is only difficult if you view it as such,” Lexa answered, coming over to sit on the bed as well. “We will find a way to kill our enemies, as we have before. You are armed with more knowledge now than you had before, and that will help us determine how to act. I believe we can keep the nature of your relationship to me a secret, if we are careful.”

“I don't want it to be a secret,” Clarke whispered, reaching for Lexa's hand. She knew she sounded like a silly, lovestruck girl, but she wanted to be assured and she couldn't help it.

“It must be. You will risk our lives and the lives of your people if it becomes general knowledge that you are my true soulmate,” Lexa reminded her firmly.

Clarke sighed heavily.

“I can leave Polis after the festival. I can't stay here. I can't look at you and pretend I still hate you and distrust you, even if I wanted to,” she said, looking Lexa in the eyes.

“There may be another way.”

“What way?”

“Come to our training grounds at ArCem. It will be abandoned in winter. We can have privacy. I can train you to defend yourself,” Lexa said softly.

Clarke's brow furrowed as Lexa squeezed her hand tighter.

“Its the field with the broken crosses, right? Where Chaya trained?” she asked, the memory of the place clear in her mind.

“Yes.”

There a pause, heavy with the unknown.

“I'll think about it,” Clarke said at last.

Lexa simply nodded.

“Get some rest, Clarke. You will find all your clothing for tomorrow laid out in your room, and servants will bring you breakfast in the morning and attend to you. I will be quite busy, but I will see you at the feast. I plan to announce you to the people, so I suggest you take advice from the speech notes I also left for you. You will be expected to make a statement of some kind. It's mostly for the benefit of the ambassadors, and the formality of the event requires it,” Lexa rattled off.

Clarke was surprised by these demands.

“Lexa...I'm not sure I'm the girl who makes speeches anymore. Maybe once, but now...”

“You will be fine,” Lexa said firmly, surprising her with a soft kiss on her forehead. “Try to sleep. You will need it,” Lexa said firmly, letting go of Clarke's hand and heading to the door. She held it open, and Clarke pulled her robe around her, suddenly feeling empty and small. She glanced at Lexa as she stepped into the hallway, finding the stoic mask firmly in place. The two guards outside did not seem to notice her, but she felt their eyes on her as she walked to the door across the hall. She did not cry until the door was closed firmly behind her.

 


	10. Put on your Warpaint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke meets some unexpected allies, while Polis grows ever more dangerous. She plans to leave as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooooo sorry...I know its been literally months since I published something. This story is constantly on my mind though, and I'm really glad I managed to write this finally. My updates will be sporadic still, but this story definitely isn't dead. Thanks so much for reading and subscribing, you guys are the only thing motivating me to continue at this point.

Clarke somehow managed to make it to the bed, not even bothering to get under the furs. The dark, unfamiliar room closed around her and she feel deep into sleep. She woke up shivering in the early hours of dawn. She lay there, numb and confused in the unfamiliar room. She felt her mind reeling with all the events of the previous day. Fear, lust, disappointment and love mixed together to become a stone in her chest. She wondered if Lexa was awake, in their bed, and if she felt regret about the choices she had made. She sighed heavily, not wanting to move.    
As the sun rose, the room around her became clearer. The bed was pushed against the wall on the far left side of the room from the door. A large wardrobe was on the wall opposite her, next to a door in the right corner that seemed to lead to a bathroom. A bedside table was to her left, and a chest was at the foot of the bed, presumably to hold extra blankets or weapons. A desk of sorts was beside the door, with a small hurricane lamp next to a small notebook. A chair sat in front of the desk. Candles littered the surfaces of the room. A window to the left of her bed was covered with dark curtains that were half open.   
She swung her feet over the side of the bed, pushing away the furs. In nothing but the robe Lexa had given her, Clarke felt the morning chill hit her. She knew autumn was just days away, and that worried her. she had never felt the cold during the summer, but she knew she wouldn't want to be out in it. She wanted to leave Polis, to slip away while Lexa was busy. Being near her made things so much harder. She wondered if running from her problems was going to be a habit as she crossed the room to the wardrobe. She pulled it open, grimacing at the way the hinges creaked loudly, cutting the silence of the early morning air. 

Inside the wardrobe were all sorts of clothing, some of it old and threadbare, some of it new and crisp. Before she had a chance to choose something, however, there was a sharp rap on the door of her room. Pulling her robe around her, she went to the door. She took a deep breath and opened the door a crack, unsure what she would be greeted by.   
To her surprise, Lexa stood there, dressed in her full armor with tight braids in her hair.   
"Um...hi?" Clarke said, unsure how to react. Beside Lexa were two towering men, who looked like they were fresh out of the woods. Between their war paint and muddy clothing, she could tell they were warriors. Behind Lexa, there was someone else, but Clarke couldn't see who.   
"Good morning, Clarke of the Sky People. There is a feast in honor of our departed Mauna today. I have summoned two warriors to protect you during your stay here, and my servant Didi will help get you dressed and ready. They have been given special instructions on how best to help you. The dressings on your arm need to be changed as well." 

Clarke glanced at her arm, which was feeling much better. She could probably bandage it herself, but it was still stiff.

“I can handle it if you have the supplies,” she said.

Lexa nodded and handed Clarke several pieces of paper covered in neat handwriting. “I have written instructions and speech suggestions for you, as well as several other notes.”   
Clarke was taken aback. She took the papers but held them close so no one would see what was on them. Lexa's formal words warranted no argument, but Clarke was wary of trusting anyone in the Capitol, especially after their encounter while hunting. The two men looked like they could be any one of the grounders she had met during the war. Though their clothing looked Trikru, she couldn't be sure if they were safe.   
"I don't need body guards, Lexa," she admonished.   
"You need them. Argo and Dale are friends to your people. I recently invited them to the Capitol after they were released from detox by your mother," Lexa said pointedly, "you can trust them with your life."   
Clarke's mouth dropped slightly. She looked at each man in turn. Argo was the shorter of the two, though his armor made him look bulkier than he actually was. He had a half shaved head with several tattoos of vines scrawled across it. His glassy black hair was messily braided and hung in his face, but failed to hide a huge puckered scar that ran from his left cheek up through his eyebrow. His eyes were dark, squinted, and unreadable. He had a short goatee and mustache. He carried several weapons, most notably a curved sword and twin daggers that hung from a belt across his front.   
Dale was older, she guessed, because his brown hair was streaked with gray at the temples. He was tall and barrel chested, and had a huge axe slung across his back. He sported a long, braided beard and fitted leather armor. His blue eyes, however, were actually friendly as he looked at her. She addressed him first.   
"You know my mother?"   
The big man just nodded, but Argo spoke up.   
"He doesn't speak. Bit his own tongue out, he claims, when they turned him."   
Clarke looked at Argo in surprise. His voice was high pitched, almost girly.   
"You were Reapers?" She asked in surprise. Dale shifted his weight slightly at the word, and Argo nodded.   
"Abby, the Sky Queen, locked us up. We were angry and frightened, but she brought us back. The red is no longer in us."   
Clarke bit her lip. If these guards knew her mother and had spent some time at Camp Jaha, they knew how to get back. She didn't have a map or any clue how to find it on her own. Her mind quickly processed that it would be best to keep them close, in the hope that she could convince them to help her leave.   
"Anyone who is friends with my people are friends of mine," she stated, looking at Lexa.   
The Commander's face was unreadable.   
"I am glad you accept them, Clarke. They are capable protectors and will accompany you everywhere in the city."   
Clarke nodded, unsure what else to say.   
Lexa continued. "You must be properly dressed for the ceremony tonight."   
Clarke pulled the robe closer around her, suddenly self conscious about her messy hair and lack of clothing.    
"How so?" She asked.   
Lexa stepped aside, revealing a short red haired girl holding a bundle of fabrics, a heavy looking box, and a handbag hanging from her arm. She wore the simple tunic and pants common among the people of Polis and had a big, buck toothed smile.   
"Didi will dress you and do your hair. She also has the  _ Skaikru _ banner for one of your men to hold, and the crown of the Sky People."   
Clarke's eyes got wide. "Crown? You mean like a real one?"

“It will be your crown until another can be made for your mother,” Lexa replied.  
She suddenly realized that in her mother's absence, she would be the acting queen and representative of her people, as tradition dictated. Her people would also have a banner to display, something that represented them. Her memories of her past lives was, thankfully, with filled with knowledge about the clans.  
With a smile, Argo reached into the pile of fabric in Didi's arms and pulled a sky blue banner out. He unfurled it and let it hang to the floor. Clarke sucked in a breath at the sight. The curve of the Ark was on the center of the banner, drawn heavily in black. Above it were 12 stars, while a thirteenth hung in the middle of the ring of the fallen station. Beside the station was a single tree.  
The symbolism in the image almost made tears rush to her eyes. There was no doubt that one of her people had drawn on the fabric of the banner, and she wondered who might have done so. The 12 stars represented the different stations of the Ark, but the star in the middle surely was meant to show that they were the Thirteenth of the Grounder nations. The tree symbolized their close affinity and location with the Trikru. Clarke cleared her throat.  
"Thank you," she said with gratitude. Her eyes were glued to the banner, and she meant the thanks to all of them.  
Argo rolled up the banner and placed it back on the pile in Didi's arms.  
"I have several preparations to make. I will leave you with them," Lexa said, looking Clarke in the eyes. She gave a subtle side glance at Didi and Clarke caught the look in her eyes. The glance held distrust.  
"Right. Thanks," she said shortly. Lexa turned and walked down the stairs out of sight, leaving Clarke with her new bodyguards and dubious feelings about Didi. Clarke stepped back into the room.  
"Um, why don't you all come inside?"  
Argo glanced at Dale. "He can go with you. I will guard the outside," he said.  
Clarke got the feeling that the two men knew more than they were letting on. She wondered how much Lexa had told them as she closed the door.  
Didi made herself busy as Clarke stood awkwardly by Argo. She pulled open the curtains, letting the sunlight stream in, but she also lit a fire to keep out the morning chill. Then she lit a few candles on the desk as she placed her items on them. As Didi began to pull hair ties and brushes from her bag, Clarke read the papers Lexa had given her. She hoped they would tell her something about what was going on.

The instructions, however, were cold and impersonal in normal Commander style. Lexa detailed the types of braids and clothing Clarke should wear, and offered an of itinerary of events. The first part of the morning seemed to be filled with dress and style, as well as eating breakfast and lunch. The second part of the day included attending the festival itself and then gathering with the other ambassadors an hour before sundown. Lexa would be giving a speech, and would be introducing Clarke. The paper gave suggestions for speaking on behalf of the Sky People and a sample of things Lexa thought it was prudent to say. 

Clarke set the papers down, not bothering to read them more closely. She felt somewhat annoyed the the itinerary did not include spending any time with Lexa at all. In fact, it seemed like she had simply handed Clarke off to be guided like a child. She knew what was required of her, but she honestly wanted nothing to do with it. It was part pageantry and part farce. Just as she was musing on this, Didi broke the silence in the room.

"I should change your bandages before you dress, Prisa."

"Yeah, um, do you have the gauze and the medicine?" Clarke said, rolling up her sleeve to reveal the bandages from the day before. Blood had seeped through in some places. Clarke was almost certain she should have gotten stitches, but she had been too much in shock to ask for them or to do them herself.

"Of course I have them. I can help you," Didi offered as she pulled a jar full of more green paste and several clean strips of cloth from her bag.

"No, thanks."

"I insist," Didi urged.

"Really, I can do it myself," Clarke said, feeling somewhat annoyed. She didn't want to appear weak. She held out her hands and took the items from Didi. 

She sat on the bed and began to unravel the stained bandage. She winced as the fabric pulled away from her skin. Her arm pretty much looked like hamburger, but didn't look swollen or infected, so that was good. Clarke dropped the bandage to the floor carelessly, grabbing the jar beside her and untwisting the lid. It smelled strongly of leaves.

"I'll just...throw this out for you," Didi said, grabbing the bandage and putting it in her bag with a look of disgust. 

"Yeah, that tiger did a number on me," Clarke affirmed as she spread green paste on her sensitive skin. She knew she didn't have clean hands, but she figured the paste was antiseptic from the way it had reacted to her wounds before. 

"It looks like it," Didi replied. She reached into her bag as Clarke began wrapping gauze around her arm tightly. The hardest part was that her left arm was clumsy, since it wasn't her dominant hand. Luckily, she had always been somewhat ambidextrous because of her art. 

"Heda had me bring several clothing options for you," Didi reported. She began placing things on the bed beside Clarke, pairing them together. Her red hair fell in her face and she kept nervously tucking it behind her ears. It was hard to read her body language, but Clarke was fairly certain that the girl wasn't an assassin, just a somewhat obvious spy.

  
Clarke looked at the pile of fabric beside her as she tied off her bandage. It all looked clean and seemed to come in various shades of blue, gray, and light brown. She supposed those were the colors meant to represent her people. She picked up what looked to be a jacket.   
"That would go with this shirt and these pants," Didi suggested promptly. She looked earnestly at Clarke, who was thankful the Dale was standing watch by the door.   
"I'll wear that. But I will dress myself. In the bathroom."   
"There is no need, you are not familiar with-"   
"I've been dressing myself for a long time," Clarke said. 

It came out more rude than she intended but she didn't really care. She didn't trust the girl to be alone with her. She snatched the items and strode to the bathroom.   
Only when the door was closed did she realize she had no undergarments. She strode back out again and demanded then. Looking at her meekly, Didi passed them over.   
In the safety of the other room, Clarke took a deep breath. Everything about the day was beginning to feel like too much. She couldn't believe the way Lexa was forcing her to deal with this, by rejecting her publicly then drawing her back in when they were alone. 

As she angrily put on the skin tight brown leather pants she had been given, she made a decision. She was not going to let Lexa get close to her again. While their passion was great in the privacy of their moments together, it only made Clarke feel worse when it was over. If it was always going to be that way, she would rather endure the difficulty of going back to the Ark and facing what she had done. All she had to do was convince Dale and Argo to guide her there.

The bathroom was white and clean, with a large mirror on one wall and a large tub to her left. An ancient toilet was set in an alcove on the far right side, across from a sink with a smaller oval mirror above it. She stood in front of the large mirror and took off her robe. Frowning at herself, she tried to ignore the scars on her body as she sorted the fabric in her hands.   
The clothing she had been given was a bit complicated, so she didn't step out of the bathroom until she was sure it was on right. 

She wore a long sleeve shirt that was light blue, covered by a long navy jacket and a brown leather corset that doubled as armor. Her leather pants tapered to bare feet, which she was able to remedy when she found that the doe skin boots she had worn the day before had been cleaned and returned to her. She tried not to imagine blood stains that weren't there. Around her waist she wore a sky blue sash, presumably to carry a sword she didn't have. A black leather sash crossed her chest, inlaid with 13 stars. One was bigger than the others and painted bright yellow right over her heart.   
If she was honest, Clarke felt powerful in the clothes she had been given. She also wondered at how perfectly they fit and wondered if Lexa had taken her measurements while she had been asleep. Dismissing the tender image of Lexa doing so from her head, she went back into the bedroom. 

  
"I should brush and braid your hair now, Sky Princess," Didi said as she packed up her bag with the remaining items.   
Clarke sighed and pulled the chair beside the desk out.   
"Go ahead," she said as she sat down.   
She watched as Didi pulled several items from her bag. A large wiry brush and a bundle of leather string were already laid out. As she reached for the brush, several metal beads clattered off the edge of the desk. Looking embarrassed, Didi bent to gather them up. Clarke leaned down to grab a stray bead. As she turned her head to the side, Clarke saw that Didi had a small dagger strapped to her ankle. It took Clarke a few seconds to compose her face after she spotted it because she didn't want Didi to know she had seen. Suspicion bloomed in her stomach with a swooping feeling. This girl could easily slit her throat any moment and she would be powerless.

  
"Here's another one," she said, holding out the bead. Didi took it and grabbed the brush. Clarke turned around to let the girl brush her hair and caught Dale's eye. He shifted slightly, putting his hand on a throwing dagger at his side. Clarke felt better for it, because she was fairly certain it was unusual for the servants in Heda's house to carry weapons. It was especially strange for someone who was supposed to be dressing her and braiding her hair to have one. She knew people often carried knives everywhere, but it was still making her uncomfortable.   
Luckily for her, Dale had to be a master of non-verbal communication by virtue of his missing tongue. His eyes darted between Clarke and Didi, as if constantly reassessing the throwing angle he might need.

  
The hair braiding took what seemed like hours, and probably did. Breakfast was brought to them by another servant. Dale passed a tray laden with bread, cheese, and grapes to her after tasting each to make sure it wasn't poisoned. Clarke shivered as it rested on her lap, remembering how Raven had almost died because of Gustus' false poisoning. She ate quietly, not trusting herself to speak, lost in her thoughts. Didi, for her part, also seemed uninterested in conversation, instead focusing on her task. With every yank on her hair, Clarke got more annoyed. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more pulling on her scalp, Didi stopped. She moved to the desk and opened the heavy box she had brought.

  
"Your crown, Princess, will be braided into your hair to keep it in place," Didi stated, but Clarke was sure there was a tone of animosity in the words. She turned to look at the object the girl held.  
It was made entirely of metal and glass. A silver headband with holes for her hair to go through were the anchorage. A second band of metal was set in a small circle to rest on top of her head. Shards of light blue beach glass were wound into the metal with wire and what looked like salvaged mechanical gears. A black shard shaped like a triangle formed the center. It was delicate and beautiful, but also symbolized the technology of her people. As Didi began to braid her hair again, carefully threading it onto her head, Clarke felt the weight of the crown grow heavier. After this, there would be no going back. Everyone would know her as the Sky Princess and she would have to live up to the expectations the Grounders had for her. When Didi was done, she went to get lunch and said she would return soon. Argo slipped into the room after she was gone.

“Hello, princess," Argo said, "Dale has a present for you from Heda."

Dale grinned and reached in his pocket, as though he had just remembered.   
He held out a small wooden box with an engraved 'C' to her. It looked small in his hands, delicate and circular. Suspiciously, she took it carefully and pulled up on the lid.   
Black powder and a small brush, also engraved, rested inside. She drew in a sharp breath as a memory, clear as day, hit her.   
  
_ "This is silly, Clo," Ally grumbled. _ __  
_ "It isn't. It makes you look fierce. It's like the eyeliner people used to use, but better," Chloe responded, reaching into a cup of water and mixing the ashes with her fingers. _ __  
_ "I made this by mixing soot and grease from the fire with some metal shavings from the blacksmith's forge," she stated proudly. _ __  
_ "That's actually really unpleasant," Ally said, pulling away and smudging the paint in a wavy line down her face. _ __  
__ "Shush, it's perfectly natural. Hey that's pretty good! Hold still."   
  
Clarke smiled.   
"The paint is a representation of the self, your feelings and experiences. It changes with significant events, or is always done similarly throughout someone's lifetime," she whispered dreamily.   
"That's right. You can draw yours however you want," Argo said.   
Clarke went to the bathroom, where the mirror above the sink helped guide her. She thought of the past and tears brimmed in her eyes. She thought about how sometimes the streaks of paint represented people one had lost. She wondered what Lexa's paint meant to her, if it was about Costia or maybe her parents. She somehow knew that the black box belonged to Lexa's deceased lover. 

Clarke turned on the water and mixed the black powder in the lid of the box, making sure it was not too thin or thick. Then she dipped the small brush in the ink and ran the brush under her eyes. She found her hand slightly shaking with each soft stroke. She thought of those she mourned for and things she had done to protect them. She put the brush down and dipped her fingers into the black paint, swirling them. Then she painted two bold lines straight down her left cheek. 

She stepped back to survey her handiwork. Satisfied, she whispered softly to herself.  "One for Dad. One for Wells. The two most important people to me on the Ark."

She dipped her fingers in the paint again and drew two more lines on her right cheek.

  
"One for Finn. One for the Mountain Men. People who died by my hand."

Her heart felt heavy, full of ghosts and sorrows. The war paint represented that to her. Saying it aloud made it real for her.  
She decided against doing anything above her eyes that might take away from her look. The result made her look sad, so she added two spikes on the sides of each eye.  
When she stepped out, clutching the box of make up in her hand, Argo whistled and Dale clapped.  
"You look excellent, Skaiprisa."

She narrowed her eyes, relying on her war paint and boots to give her confidence. She wanted to know what these men were about, and she wasn't sure when Didi would be back.

"What did Lexa tell you?" She demanded.   
Argo frowned and tapped the notebook that she had spotted on the desk when she woke up.   
"Oh, this and that," he said, opening the notebook on the desk and picking up a pen. He began writing and Clarke strained to see.   
_ Best not to say anything out loud _ , he wrote,  _ there are ears everywhere _ .  _ She told us you are very special to her and in need of protection because your lives were already threatened. She also said to be cautious about revealing too much aloud _ , he finished, passing her the pen. They both looked at her expectantly.

She paused to think before writing anything. Words seemed to hold more weight once they were on paper. Dale craned his neck to keep up with the conversation.

Clarke frowned as the pen touched the page. She decided to take a risk and trust these men. After receiving Costia's paint box, Lexa seemed to trust them, and that meant she should as well.

  
_Ai laik_ _ Heda keryon mounon _ , she wrote in Trigedasleng, then looked up to gauge their reactions. They glanced at each other and back to her in shock. Dale tapped the book, then signed something to Argo. Clarke passed Dale the pen and he wrote one word.   
_ Costia? _   
Clarke shook her head and took the pen back.   
_ Costia was a lie. I was not here, and Heda chose to love another. _   
Both men frowned, then Argo took the pen.   
_ Can you prove it? If that is true, it changes the way others see you,  _ then he added,  _ talk once in a while. To make it seem like we are not writing. _   
Clarke struggled to think what to say and write. Things were getting complicated quickly and she new she needed these men on her side.   
She took the pen back carefully from Argo.   
_ I was Cassandra, Chloe, Chaya, and Celia. I was killed by my own people for surrendering Alina to the Mountain Men. I was the first to soul walk, in a tent in the town of Sylvania. I was the first to paint Heda's face in a war against the Desert People. I lived in the room across the hall. I was the first to crown the queens of each nation with Aliyah at my side. And I was in the City of Light in my fourth life, too far away to meet my soulmate. _   
She put down the pen, tears stinging at the memories of her greatest achievements and parts of her past lives. She hoped her war paint wouldn't run too much. Both men took a moment to read it while she spoke aloud about the weather. Argo responded as though nothing was amiss.   
There were several tense moments, during which Clarke was afraid they would call her crazy, but then Dale picked up the pen and wrote:  _ We are honored to serve you, princess. The love of our Heda is the love of the people. _   
Clarke smiled wide and took the pen.   
_ Thank you. But you can't tell anyone. They will think that she is a liar and may not support her anymore. It will weaken her position. _   
Both men read it and nodded. She continued to write.   
_ Assassins were sent after us. Someone knows. _   
They nodded in comprehension, putting together the pieces of why they were sent to protect her. Clarke let out a breath. Having allies on her side was a relief.

Just then, Didi returned with another tray of food, stopping short when she saw them. 

“Oh, sorry, I just wanted to leave this here,” she said.

“Please do,” Argo replied, closing the cover of the notebook. 

Didi set the tray down carefully.

“Anything else you need, Prisa?” she asked.

“That will be all.”

“Perhaps you would like me to guide you around the fair?”

“That won't be necessary,” Clarke said, with an edge to her voice.

Didi narrowed her eyes.

“Fine. Good day...princess.” Didi said with a smirk, tapping her leg. She backed out of the room.

Clarke let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and realized her heart had been pounding too. She flipped open the notebook and angrily wrote,  _I_ _ want to leave tomorrow, after the festival. I want to return to Camp Jaha. _   
They glanced at each other and nodded again.   
"How long does a festival like this usually last?" She asked aloud.   
Argo shrugged. "Late into the night, depending on how drunk everyone is," he said ruefully.   
"I see." Clarke replied.

  
Argo took the pen and wrote, _W_ _e could slip away around midnight when the guards change_.  
Clarke pondered this, then retrieved the pen. They went back and forth with ideas for almost two hours, planning what to do. By the end, her hand was cramped and the tray of food was empty. After such detailed planning, however, she felt confident they could get away without Lexa or the others knowing. She sat back in the chair, stretching her tense muscles from prolonged sitting.  
They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, digesting the plans they had made and their lunch of sandwiches and rice.  
“We should go to the festival now. There is still time before sundown to see the shows and sample more local food," Argo suggested.  
Clarke smiled. "I'd like that," she said.  
"We'll take the liberty of putting out the fire for you," he said pointedly.  
Dale ripped the pages they had written on out and threw them in the fire. When all that remained in the grate were the smouldering, blackened remains of their conversation, they headed to the door. Dale slammed the door loudly behind them with a satisfied smirk as they left.  
"If they haven't fallen asleep from boredom, the spies will know we're gone now," Argo whispered. Clarke had to admire their secrecy and quick thinking. She felt much safer with them around.  
They went down the stairs and into the main hallway. The din of conversation from the street carried into the open doors of the Capitol as Clarke stepped out for the first time among them as a crowned, recognized, leader.

 


	11. But are they any wiser?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke attends a Polis festival and puts into place her plan to leave with Argo and Dale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever, friends. This one is pretty long and I feel like it took a lot of time to write. I might still have to tweak it, but I'm pretty satisfied with putting it up for you. Thanks so much for your comments, it really makes me happy that you guys still like it even though I'm often too busy to write. Enjoy!

Once outside in the bright sun, Clarke let herself be guided by Argo toward the waterfront. Dale followed behind them, keeping a sharp eye for anyone suspicious in the throngs of people. Luckily, the noise and bustle allowed Clarke to speak to Argo more freely.   
"How far is it to the Ark from here?" she asked.   
"About a two day ride, if we move fast. If not, about 4 at the most. We'll be heading almost due west," he replied, ducking away from a woman carrying a bushel of wheat. Clarke found the crowd parting as they passed, drawing curious stares and whispers. She expected that most people already knew who she was, but the crown seemed to draw their attention more than anything.   
"Aren't my people in the mountain because it's almost winter?"   
Argo looked pensive. "Most only travel there to get food or technology or other supplies. Your mother and her assistant seem to be the ones who mostly stay there to tend to patients.”

Clarke felt hesitant to ask more, but she wanted to know what to expect.

“Does Raven go there? Did she access the computers?”

Argo frowned. “Sometimes she goes there, but she says it makes her legs hurt. I do not know what she does there, exactly,” he apologized.

“No, no, that's fine. I just...want to know. Are they getting enough food? Are they protected? What did the rest of the reapers do after they left?” The questions flew from her mouth. She knew that she shouldn't overwhelm him, but for the first time, she felt homesick. Even walking among the broken and patched buildings of Polis, which were familiar to her now in a way they never would have been before, she realized that home wasn't the sky and wasn't the forest; home was where the people she loved were. She felt better knowing she would be going back soon.

“Yes and yes. They are well. “Most of the reap—ah, sorry, we try not to use that word—men like Dale and I, they've gone back to their clans or their families. But we were summoned by Heda. She knew we had nothing to go back to," he said sadly.  
Clarke tilted her head slightly his way in sympathy, feeling the crown pull at her hair. She decided not to do that again.  
"I'm sorry. Here I am talking about my friends and family and you--”  
"It's alright, Prisa, we have made our peace with it. That was part of your mother's doing. She got us to talk, or in Dales case, write, about our pasts. My childhood as an orphan and the way they captured me...Dale's wife and daughter. We also practiced our sign language, which we started developing while we were on The Red. The drug made it hard to talk, like a thick ball of cloth in your mouth. Silent communication that few other people know is of a very great advantage to you, though, as it happens,” he explained, tilting his head closer to her with a grin.

“Thanks. I really needed someone on my side right now,” Clarke said, scanning the crowd. Argo seemed so genuine. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like, reduced to no more than a mindless killer, begging for the Mountain Men's scraps and drugs.

“Our pleasure. But I'll do you one better. I have some coins here, courtesy of our dear Commander,” he said with a smile as they turned the corner, pulling a small bag from his belt.

A bridge spanning the bay spread out before them. The cliffs along the coastline, once ravaged by bombs, were worn down by the endless lapping of the ocean. On the far side, a large open area could be seen even at a distance. Clarke was taken aback. Things had changed a lot in the city since she had last been there.

“There's a real economy now, I take it.”  
"Oh yes. That's the Exchange," Argo explained, pointing to a large red tent on the cliffs beyond the bridge. "We go there to barter goods. But along the bridge for the festival, the vendors take these coins."  
Clarke felt a nagging feeling that she should know this, but her missed life made it impossible.

"The coins are held against the barter value, and the Heda Gold Standard," he went on, "Some genius a few years ago went and broke into a gold stash. Big place out west, full of technology. He brought back what he could carry after the access codes expired. Guess no one can get in now, its on auto lock down. Anyway, in exchange for all the gold, Heda Allesandra promised free housing and clothing to all who scavenged gold. She soon had enough to mint into coins, and now everyone has free access to the basic necessities. In fact, the Heda Gold Standard was pretty much the only good thing to come out of her time as Commander," he finished, holding up a gold coin to her.  
She took it carefully, the texture and weight unfamiliar to her. On one side was an imprinted 'H' in Trigedasleng, and on the other was the gear that symbolized Heda.

“I wish I had been here,” she whispered dreamily to herself. She felt a fuzzy feeling in her head. There were memories there, she was sure, but the noise of the crowd and the bright sun distracted her. She handed the coin back. She felt very strange and disoriented for a few moments as they neared the bridge across the harbor.

“Are you hungry?” Argo asked.

“I guess so,” Clarke replied, remembering their meager lunch that she was too distracted to really taste. Smoke from cook fires and the smell of meat had already set her mouth to watering as they approached the vendor's tents.

Argo guided her from stall to stall, trying seemingly endless amounts of food from each nation. Clarke savored everything. It was probably the first time since she came to the ground that she was eating just to taste, not because she was starving or getting ready to fight. This encouraged her, knowing that if she had let it, the depression she felt would get the better of her. In the bright sunlight, with good company and food, things didn't seem so bleak for once. She ate chicken on a stick with roasted onions, fried potatoes with herbs, cheese biscuits with garlic butter, whole fried fish, and little baskets of fried lamb nuggets.

Every vendor was kind and very excited to serve the new Skaiprisa. One woman even beat her husband to cook a plate of corn on the cob for her, shouting in Trigedsleng that he had better make it faster or 'the girl might kill him on the spot.' Clarke tried desperately not to laugh but offered the man a kindly smile. Still, he served her food with trembling hands under the apologetic eye of his wife.

There were other vendors who watched carefully over piles of jewelry laid out on rickety tables. There were shell necklaces and carved pieces as well as fired clay ornaments. Clarke looked at them, but didn't really want anything for herself. Instead, all she could think about was what she would get for her friends.

She talked Argo into buying a leather bracelet with tree designs burned into it for Octavia. Clarke knew that hoping it would make up for the lies was stupid at best, but she could try. She also picked up a necklace made of small black shells for Raven. Maybe a new necklace instead of Finn's origami might make her feel better, Clarke reasoned to herself. She missed her friends and wished they could be with her to enjoy browsing the tables with her. She knew she hadn't left them on the best terms, and she still felt guilty. Presents might make them more forgiving

She couldn't help but look for something for Lexa, though. As she drifted further along the bridge, she thought about what kind of gift would be the right thing for her Heda. She wrestled with herself silently as Argo chatted about the weather and the crafting guilds of Polis. Should she even buy something for Lexa? Or would it give her the wrong idea to give her a piece of jewelry? Her past lives had often exchanged jewelry of great value and beauty. She decided that something small and discreet might be best, but not a ring everyone would see. She picked up on a small rope bracelet made of green and sky blue fibers and knew that would be best. Lexa could even wear it under her armor, hopefully. She pocketed the jewelry after much haggling with the vendors.

By now the sun was lowering in the sky, and Clarke remembered that she needed to be at the square on the ridge by dusk. As they left the bridge behind them, they fell in with the crowd streaming up the hill toward the Exchange. The buildings seemed to be full of lively trade as humans and animals traversed the open area around a large stage in the center of the square. Off to the right of the wooden platform the clan representatives were in small groups talking, drinking, and eating in full war paint and armor with their banners lowered for the time being. Clarke made her way toward them, a bubble of nervousness in her gut. Lexa was nowhere in sight.

“Oi, Clarke!” came the booming voice of Rippon, who was standing with Luna and a small woman named Ash, the war chief of the Desert People. She spotted the banners: the brown flag of the Sankru with three dunes, the bright yellow of the Sun Clan that sported a circle and five rays pointing downward, and the dark blue flag of the Boat People, which showed a small skiff riding a stylized wave.

She made her way to them, noting the other colorful banners. Indra stood next to Ryder, who was holding the black flag of the Woods Clan with a bright green tree in the center. She also spotted, with some trepidation, the white flag of the Ice Nation with three black crystals in the center. It seemed Indra was attempting to reason with the older man in furs that Clarke assumed was the Ice Nation representative. They turned toward her as she approached.

“Hope I'm not late,” she said, failing to hide her nervousness as she joined the leaders nearest to the tent entrance.

“Not at all,” Luna assured, “Heda hasn't arrived yet. Care for a drink?”

“Ah, no thanks,” Clarke declined, eying the tankards the leaders were holding dubiously. She wondered if it would be weird to get Dale or Argo to taste everything she ate or drank here, as they had offered to do earlier. She trusted the clan representatives less than anyone in the city. She also felt like it was best not to get drunk before the ceremony, even if it might calm her nerves. She suddenly missed Monty and wished she could be carefree by a fire playing Flip the Coin again. But now she was here among strangers, and she was distinctly uncomfortable.

It must have showed on her face, because Rippon clapped her on the shoulder and said, “No need to be shy. You're one of us now.”

“Right. You certainly have gotten close to the Trikru, Clarke,” Luna said with a slight smile.

Clarke hoped her war paint covered the blush that crept into her cheeks. She was sure her ears were also bright pink.

“You could say that,” she replied judiciously.

“Our Heda seems to be doing well at teaching you our customs,” Rippon said, taking a swig from his mug.

“Well, sort of,” Clarke replied in a clipped tone, “my guards have done better and I just met them. She's very busy.”

“Its a shame you don't have your _kru_ with you, Prisa. Are you enjoying Polis?” the Boat leader said.

“I am. I just hope we can get this ceremony over with soon,” Clarke stated politely to Luna. She felt scrutinized, and couldn't help but wonder who among the small crowd of leaders was trying to kill her. Her shoulders were tense with worry. She thought of Lexa saying _attack her and you attack me_. She wondered the leaders in Polis were told the same thing. After the missile, Clarke suspected that each clan had needed to send a new representative, or the leaders themselves came to council. Some of them might be recently sent from home and hadn't seen the way Clarke and Lexa had grown close before the battle. At least she hoped not.

“From what I understand, you're to be at the top of the line,” Ash said genially. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled and ran her hand through her gray hair.

Clarke gave her a confused look, then remembered the instructions Lexa had written. The ones she hadn't read. She had no clue how this was supposed to go, having been far too distracted by Didi and talking to her new guards to even look at the ceremony instructions.

“Yes, we're supposed to stand in order, with you at the front. Heda wants to give some announcements, then you make a speech, and then we do The Burning,” Luna said, and Clarke silently thanked her.

“You'll be fine,” Rippon assured her with a smile and another good-natured clap on the shoulder. He was strong as a _pauna,_ but Clarke rubbed her shoulder and tried to force a smile.

Just then, drums sounded on the street behind them. They all turned to find Lexa at the head of a funeral procession, surrounded by heavily armored pallbearers. A body wrapped in furs rested on a pile of wood. Clarke noticed that each pallbearers wore a sash of their clan's colors. Half were pallbearers and the other half were drummers. Clarke felt momentarily guilty she could not provide a Skaicru representative. As the bier passed by, she found the leaders lining up behind her.

“Go ahead,” Luna prompted, giving her an encouraging push. Clarke followed the drummers as the crowd gathered, some weeping and others singing softly. It felt so surreal, and she had no idea what she was doing. They circled the platform, then stood lined up as wood was piled in the open space in front of the stage by the people of Polis. The pallbearers then set down their burden and stood with swords facing down and heads bowed. Clarke stood stock still slightly behind Lexa, willing her crown to stay in place.

The crisp air smelled of meat and wood smoke. The crowd of people below the platform milled about, a din of anguished voices that echoed in the square. Lexa stood stony faced for several moments, as if gauging the anticipation of her audience before she decided to speak. The clan representatives and their bannermen stood in a line, their weapons out and pointing down. Clarke felt slightly inadequate for not having one, but she hoped it went with the nonviolent message she was hoping to give the people of Polis.  
As the sun darted in and out of the clouds, the Commander held up her hands, palms facing outward. Her fingers were crossed, and this seemed to be the signal the crowd awaited. A hush fell over the square like a blanket.  
"On this day, we celebrate a life lived and a life lost. Our beloved Mauna took her own life a few days ago. As you all know, she was one of the oldest and wisest among us. Each one of us walked safe through the paths of our past lives under her supervision. But Mauna's life was not without difficulty. She served two Commanders and at one time ran this city. Such difficult responsibilities no doubt led to a sickness of mind, especially when she left the Capitol shortly after I became Heda. Isolation improved her writing and record keeping but made it hard for her to cope with people. We can only hope that in her next life, the Goddess will choose a stable mind to hold the wisdom of her old soul. She was always a tactician and an excellent advisor. She saw patterns and connected ideas from simple observation, and she was always kind to each batch of children who showed up at her home looking for who they once were. Her guidance will be sorely missed. So today we celebrate her life and her commitment to researching the human condition. We must remember that all life is sacred, and that souls are not lightly passed on. I only hope that the Goddess welcomes her to the Ether, where her spirit may rest for a time. The Conclave will decide who will fill her place when each clan sends a candidate here.” Lexa lowered her head and there were several long seconds of silence. A breath of fresh air blew from the ocean, as if clearing away the sorrow in the square. Lexa looked out at her people and continued.  
“Today we also celebrate a new beginning. It often seems that victory follows sacrifice, and prosperity follows grief. With war so recently in our minds, I am pleased to say we will have peace at last. Many of you know of the conflict with the people who feel from the sky. This conflict is now ended. I wish to formally welcome Princess Clarke of the Skaicru into the Alliance of the Clans, which is now 13 instead of 12.”  
Applause and even a few whoops sounded out from the crowd as Clarke stepped forward. Her banner flapped and snapped in the wind as Dale held it steady. She was suddenly grateful that Argo stood close to her side. She wished she did have her own people with her, but they were the closest friends she could have under the circumstances, and she appreciated their loyalty.

As Clarke stepped forward to stand to the right of Lexa, she felt the type of nervousness that comes with speaking in front of a large crowd of people. She remembered when she tried to influence the Hundred with her words when they first fell to the ground. Bellamy was always better at this than her.  _ He should be here, _ she thought.   
She took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on a red brick building opposite of her.  _ Stay calm _ , she told herself, willing the festival food she had eaten to stay down.   
"Many of you may have heard of me. Many of you may have heard of my people. But I promise you that what you have heard...is false."   
Uncomfortable looks from the crowd, and a sharp glance from Lexa.   
"My people were struggling to breathe in space. That is the only reason we came to the ground. We didn't know at the time that a thriving group of people were already here. We didn't know that this city, full of life and culture, existed."   
Several smiles at this. The words were coming easier now as she built up momentum.   
"We also didn't know...that inside Mount Weather, the last of the old world survived. The Mountain Men had been draining and killing your people for decades. When they captured my friends...I had to get them back. They were killing my people too, just kids I had fought to keep alive. After our clans fought against each other, I allied with your Commander to bring down the mountain. It wasn't anything special or different that I did. I just wanted to save lives. It is true that the war we planned...didn't exactly go right. But with the mountain empty, things will change. My people may have the knowledge and ability to use the technology in the mountain, but I want it to be abundantly clear: we are not and never will the same as the Mountain Men.”

There was scattered clapping that built up at this, and Clarke couldn't help but smile. Lexa was giving her sidelong glances. Clarke could tell this speech wasn't going the way she might have said it.

“And...I do know that my people will honor Mauna by sending our own representative to submit to the will of the Conclave as soon as we can. Thank you.”  
Cheers erupted from the crowd, and then the clan leaders followed Lexa down off the stage. Her heart was pounding as Argo held her arm and helped her down the last step. She had said what she wanted to say and now fell silent.

Clarke was handed a torch by one of the pallbearers. Lexa's torch was lit with flint. The rags and oil on the end caught fire, and Lexa touched it to Clarke's torch, igniting it as well.

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ,” she intoned, and Clarke repeated it quietly. As she passed the flame to Luna, who stood beside her, the Boat leader also said it. And so on around the circle, until fourteen torches were blazing in the sunlight. They all touched their torches to pyre. The wails of the mourners rose around them and Mauna's ashes swirled into the sky.

Clatke stood until the fire burned low and the sun set on them. Some of the people of Polis left, while the pallbearers, leaders, and their attendants looked on. Each seemed to reflect on the sadness in their souls, but to Clarke there was only horror in her heart.

_I kill everything I touch_ , she mused to herself. _Mauna tricked me, but she did it for a reason. She wanted me to know who I am and where I came from. But is it truly worth the pain and confusion of five lives? Is it worth her not being here to guide me further?_

She shook her head, too weary to know. In silence, the group began to head back to the Capitol. The shops were closed, but light glowed in the windows. Along the bridge the tents were still standing, goods packed neatly away. Their occupants flooded the taverns along the waterfront. Raucous laughter and mock sword fights abounded as night settled in, but Clarke felt none of the cheer and camaraderie of celebration. Mauna was gone, and Lexa's people did what they knew best: they went back to fighting, and surviving, and spending time with those they loved. She only wished she could do the same. But Lexa and several others melted into the night with no goodbyes, and Clarke was left alone with Argo and Dale. She hadn’t planned on joining them, and had said as much, but she still felt lonely at the prospect of being left out.

“We still have time. We should go back to your room,” Argo prompted. His words brought her back to reality.

“You're right. Let's go,” she said.

With Argo and Dale guarding her room, she was finally able to relax alone. She took off the elaborate crown and symbolic clothing, not caring that they made a messy pile on the floor. She went instead for her pack, where she found the clothes she had left Camp Jaha in. They smelled fresh and clean, as though death could be so easily washed away. And then, to her surprise, she felt the cold weight of her gun on the tips of her fingers. She took the weapon from her bag and sat heavily on her bed of furs. Without a thought, she began to carefully take it apart. With an old rag, she cleaned her gun carefully. Lost in the planes and contours of her weapon, Clarke forgot what it meant to be be guilty, what it meant to be loved, and even what it meant that she would probably have to use the gun again. She knew only that it was part of her, just like all her past lives.

Comfortable now in her murderer’s clothes, she began to gather up all the items she would need from the room. Practical items like the notebook and a towel were added to her bag alongside the small box of black powder she had received as a gift. Thought she might not need it, she wanted to have it anyway. Her drawings from her wandering she left behind on the desk, and placed her Sky crown on them as a paperweight. The crown held no power where she was going.

Argo stepped into the room as she packed the remaining things she needed, replacing the gun, still wrapped in its cleaning cloth, with the other items.

“We should go saddle the horses and trick the guards into leaving the back door towards the stables unguarded,” he said quietly, though there was little chance of bring overheard. The Capitol was nearly empty.

Clarke checked her watch, surprised that Argo knew how close it was to midnight by instinct.

“I'll meet you at the stables from the back way. I don't want Lexa to know I've left the building.”

“Are you sure that passage still works? Its been years since you've been that way.”

“Lexa knows the secret passages. I'm sure she still makes use of them,” Clarke assured him. “Besides, we have no choice. This might be the only time everyone is out of the Capitol for celebration.” Here she was, making more necessary decisions. It was always what she was best at.

He nodded and reached to clasp her forarm. “ _No wan sun_ ,” she told her.

“Good luck to you too,” Clarke replied, a smile tugging at her mouth in spite of herself. She hoped that her guards wouldn’t be the next to die for being close to her. As their footsteps receded down the hall, Clarke took several deep breaths and counted to thirty. Then she slipped out of her room, leaving the candles still burning, and went to Lexa's door. She was no expert in lock picking, but she remembered that the old and frequently used door to the room was sometimes loose. Turn it the wrong way and jiggle it a little, and it would pop open. She cast several glances up and down the hall, noting the eerie silence. Torches burned along the walls and she saw no one, but she still felt as though she was being watched by invisible eyes.

By the time the door clicked open, Clarke's heart was in her throat. She was pleased that the door trick still worked, but as she slipped inside she had to stop and take a breather. The room was pitch black, its lone occupant having been gone for several hours. As Clarke’s boots shuffled across the wooden floor, she tried to remember where all the objects in the room were located and where the door she was looking for was. She found the cold stone of the fireplace mantle with her hands, but finding the metal lever to open the secret door wasn't as easy.

After fumbling and cursing under her breath and having to drop her bag on the ground, Clarke slid the fireplace door open with a soft grinding sound. Gritting her teeth at the noise, Clarke picked up her pack and slipped into the stone passage. After making sure the fireplace was closed, she started downward toward the baths. The steam hit her lungs as she traveled closer to the underground room. Clarke was not here for the baths, however. She passed by them with barely a glance, trying not to remember the things she and Lexa had done there. A chill passed through her despite the humid air.

She headed up the steps on the other side of the chamber. The climb was slow, and her breath came in gasps by the time she reached the top. She felt out of shape after spending all day eating. When she finally felt the wooden door to the hallway against her fingers, she paused and tried to quiet her breath. She couldn’t hear anything on the other side of the door, so she cautiously began to open it. She froze, however, when she heard voices.

“...Of course she did, friend. Why don’t you two head out to a tavern? I hear the Gold Cat had a discount for Heda's warriors tonight. She wanted us to take over for you.”

“Then why haven't I seen you two before tonight? And why doesn’t your friend speak?” One of the door guards asked suspiciously.

“We're warriors who escaped from the mountain. We just got here.”

“Well, if Heda said so...I guess we'll go grab our coin purses,” The other guard said somewhat happily.

Evidently this was a good enticement, because a few seconds later, Clarke saw two figures coming her way. She ducked back and closed the door as the other guards passed. Evidently, Argo and Dale had taken up their posts by the door.

“Reapers,” one guard muttered darkly.

“Who do they think they are coming here?” the other replied as their footsteps faded.

With a frantic feeling in her stomach, she waited for what seemed like ages. She hoped they were gone  as she inched the door back open. She heard nothing. In her head, she went over again how this was supposed to work. She needed the second secret passage to get her to the stables. Then so she could grab the horses that Argo and Dale had already readied. The second passage lay behind a portrait in the room across from where she was:  the room of the Hedas. She did not need to enter to know what it looked like, so vivid was it in her mind’s eye. The walls were covered in tapestries and paintings. It held the full body portraits of each Heda and her partner in their prime, often stylized and loaded with the symbols of each reign they shared.   
Clarke's hand hesitated on the door handle only a moment as she realized she had better hurry or she wouldn't be able to snag the horses Argo and Dale had already prepared for their escape.

She opened the door quickly and rushed in, sure the room would be empty at this time of night. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Luna standing in the middle of the room, regarding a portrait. Clarke's eyes darted to the secret passage she knew lay behind the painting of Ally.    
"Oh hello, Clarke," Luna drawled, turning toward her with her hands still behind her back. Clarke clutched the strap of her bag, aware that she would never get to her gun or knife in time to fight. Luna's sword hung at her side, but her stance was non-threatening.   
"What are you doing here?" Clarke demanded.   
Luna raised her eyebrows with a smirk, "this room is open to Hedas guests. I felt like looking upon the faces of our leaders, reviewing the lives of our greatest. Alexandria hasn't shown you this room yet, I take it."   
Clarke felt like this was a trap of some sort. If she had any guesses right now as to who was in charge of the attempts on her life, this confirmed them. There was no reason for the older leader to be here, and they both knew it.   
She knew what this room was. She knew and it was already too late because Luna knew. Still, she tried to recover.   
"Actually, I was looking for the bathroom," Clarke lied lamely. She stepped away from the door, hoping that she would take the bait, willing her to leave.   
Luna smiled. "It's too bad you're so lost, princess. Perhaps you need more time with the leaders of the past than I do."   
To Clarke's utter amazement, Luna strode past her and left the room. The snap of the door knocked the breath she hadn't known she had been holding out of her.   
_ What the fuck?! _ She swore silently.   
She checked her father's watch. She had to meet with Argo and Dale in 20 minutes. Swearing again, she crossed the room the the portrait of Ally. She took a deep breath, trying not to be overwhelmed by seeing the faces of the past around her. She was doing this for them, she told herself. She was leaving because Lexa could never be with her in this life either. The empty portrait where Celia should have been reminded her that some lives are meant to be doomed. She stepped through the portrait and ran along the passage on the other side, her heart pounding in her ears.

 


	12. Autumn Leaves Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke leaves Polis, but all is not right in the world.

The night was silent and the moon was full as Clarke emerged from the secret passage into the tack room of the stables. She moved slowly and replaced the wooden paneling and saddles she had to move to escape the passage. She groped her way through the dark toward the door of the room. She nearly screamed when her boot contacted with a metal bucket, sending it out into the aisle of the barn with a loud clanging noise. 

At the end of the row of stalls, Lexa's form appeared, along with the curious heads of several sleepy horses.   
"There is no need to hide, Clarke. Please come here."   
Knowing that she was caught, Clarke walked toward her soulmate with reluctance. When she reached the doors to the barn, she saw Argo and Dale surrounded by warriors. Luna, who was smirking at her in triumph, stood beside them. Clarke's suspicion of the woman only grew. This wasn't supposed to happen.    
"Why are you leaving like this?" Lexa asked quietly. "We caught your men at the doors." The look of disappointment on her face tore at Clarke's heart.   
"I can't stay here. My duty is with my people, not my heart," she replied softly.   
Lexa's words coming from her mouth. When had she become so unsure of who she was and how she felt? When had pain become ordinary and lies her friends?   
Lexa's face hardened. "Then you should be with them,” she said, and in a louder voice continued, “Many of the other leaders are leaving first thing in the morning before the cold makes it more difficult to travel. Rippon is going your way and is bringing his men with him. You would be better off to go south with others. I would not send you with your guards alone, yet you seek to go without my leave.”

Clarke sighed in frustration. “I just didn't want to cause a stir.” 

And yet you have. If you wished to return to your people, you need only to have asked," the Commander countered.

Clarke had nothing to say. Was this another of Lexa's stunts?

The Commander whistled and the stable boy brought forth the three horses they had planned to take, including Anya's mare. Clarke felt shamed and guilty for trying to take horses she thought no one would miss, but Lexa was giving her the chance to leave.   
_ But why with Rippon? _ she wondered. He was not the only clan leader traveling south. Lexa's suggestion made no sense, considering that any one of the leaders could be untrustworthy. Clarke decided not to voice this sentiment, however.    
"Fine. Is he ready to go?"   
"He is asleep, Clarke. As you should be. He was drunk when his men brought him upstairs after a few hours of drinking. Allow me to escort you back to your rooms until he can be ready to travel."   
She didn't like the sound of this, but nodded. What choice did she have?   
Argo and Dale looked at the ground in defeat as she passed by.   
"This isn't your fault," she told them, "your plan was a good one. We just didn't make it in time." They said nothing as she followed Lexa back into the building. Her footfalls were silent on the carpet, but her thoughts were in turmoil. 

To her surprise, Lexa led her to the council chamber, not her room. She set two guards outside the stone doors and closed them.   
As Clarke expected, Lexa rounded her almost immediately.   
"How dare you try to leave without my permission! I will not have you disrespect me like this! The alliance does not hold by my will alone. Don't you know the consequences of making me look like a fool?"   
"Lexa, do you even care why I wanted to leave? Don't you think I deserve a break from this? I haven't even had a chance to adjust! What do you expect?"   
"I expect you to act like a sensible leader, which I have known you to be. But that, apparently, is too much!" Lexa shot back. 

With great difficulty, she walked over to the map table and leaned heavily on it, as though trying to gather herself. Clarke felt rage course through her, and before she knew it, she had gone to the table too.   
"I am the leader you made me into, Lexa! The leader who killed the boy I loved to save him pain and suffering, who dealt with the accusing stares of her friends, who marched to war beside her enemies to save the people she cared about!" she cried, smashing and throwing the war pieces on the table with abandon, red clouding her vision. She grabbed the replica of the mountain, the same one she and Lexa had built, and that Lexa had apparently brought to Polis. She smashed it with her hand, the twigs snapping and the fabric tearing.

"I murdered the mountain while you walked away like a coward!" she screamed.   
Fury in her face, Lexa strode to Clarke, then grabbed and threw the mountain replica to the ground. She grabbed Clarke's upper arms, as though she intended to shake the blond.   
"Then you stop this! Be the leader you must be and stop letting your heart rule you!"   
Clarke laughed then, a deep sardonic laugh that echoed in the stone chamber.   
"Oh, that's rich Lexa! Coming from you! I'm so done with your bullshit. You're just as weak as I am. That's why I don't want to be anywhere near you anymore! All I wanted to do was leave and here you are scolding me like a child! Which one of us is blinded by feelings here, Lexa? Huh?"   
In shock, Lexa let go of Clarke's arms.

Her Heda turned away, holding herself back.

“Get out.”

Clarke thought about the time she had backed Lexa into a table at those words. This time, she left, but not before getting in one last word.

“I hope you know Luna sent the assassin. I think you better check where your loyalties lie, Commander.”

“Liar! Get out!” Lexa shouted this time.

Clarke slammed the door behind her and nodded to the guards outside. She walked back to her room with a sense of satisfaction under her rage. She found Argo and Dale waiting at her door, but she sent them away to rest. Since it was apparent that they weren't leaving right away, they had a temporary room. Or something. Clarke didn't know the particulars, but she did know that she wanted to be alone.

She needed time to reflect on her past and time to let her head clear. She was angry and frustrated with Lexa. Her soulmate didn't seem to want to listen to her. She trusted Luna and Rippon and the others, and Clarke couldn't get through to her. They had been around a lot longer and seemed to know how to play off the Commander's trust. It also occurred to her that Rippon most likely was not the one sending assassins and tracking her movements, which meant she was safer with him. Either way, Clarke wanted out. The politics had exhausted her in the few days she had been in Polis. If lies and midnight deals were how Lexa had to operate to keep her alliance going, that was her business.

Clarke knew her very presence was a threat to Lexa and the stability of the clans, especially because she suspected Luna. That would not go over well. And if more assassins came after her...she would deal with them then. Someone knew information that they would use to bring down the alliance, and Clarke would be damned if her people were threatened by Grounder instability. As far as Clarke was concerned, there were only two options: kill or be killed. Either way resulted in a scandal that could put her people at risk and drive a stake into the heart of Lexa's alliance.

She thought of the man who had been afraid of her at the festival. She didn't want to be known as a murderer, even if it made her renowned among the people of Polis and beyond. But then, what did she want?

Clarke spent some time contemplating this, only to give up for the simple task of drawing by candlelight until her eyes were tired. When the candles had all but burned out, buried in their own wax and pooled on every surface, then sun began to rise outside her window.

Suddenly, there was a sharp rap on the door. Clarke stood up quickly, her papers and drawings of forests buried in coal covered eyes falling around her feet. She grabbed the knife of her would-be assassin from beside her bed, then crept softly to the door.

She waited a long, breathless moment, but nearly fell over when Rippon's voice boomed through the solid wood.

" _Clarke kom Skaikru!_ Are you alive in there?" He called, guffawing jovially. Surprised, Clarke opened the door, still clutching the knife. She was bedraggled and probably looked like a maniac, she realized almost immediately.

"Jeez, Rippon. You couldn't be any louder?" She asked, half joking, half irritated. Rippon laughed along with his two guards, who were carrying several heavy packs.

"This is the perfect time to leave. Now that I've slept off my hangover, that is. Are you ready to go?"

Clarke chuckled and shook her head. Despite herself, she liked Rippon. It was hard to distrust him, even when trusting anyone was the last thing she wanted to do in Polis. Clarke had always thought she was a good judge of character...until recently. It was impossible to tell if Rippon was just going along with her at Lexa's request, or if he had truly been ready to leave.

Shaking that thought away, she went back into her room for her bag. She decided to take the sash-like leather holster from her formal outfit to hold her new knife. Casting one last glance around the room, which felt more cold and lonely than before, she rejoined Rippon and his men in the hallway. They chatted about their drinking antics and how many fights they had won the night before. Their chatter actually made Clarke smile despite everything as they reached the barn. Unsurprisingly, Argo and Dale were there, looking tired but clean.

After several delays while the packs were loaded and the horses taken care of, they mounted up. Dale boosted Clarke easily into the saddle, and the party headed toward the gates. The sun was fully up now, casting a beautiful orange glow over Polis. The morning was chill, and Clarke wished she had warmer clothes. She hoped she would find new clothes back at the Ark, though she doubted they had anything except items from the Mountain. She shivered at the thought, unsure if she was really able to face a place that didn't feel like home. Her mood was dark as Argo trotted up next to her.

“How are you doing, Princess?”

“I told you you don't have to call me that,” Clarke said irritably.

“Just trying to be respectful on this fine morning. I'm guessing you're not feeling so great after our little mishap last night?”

Clarke just stared at him. _Who even talks that way?_  she wondered.

“Yeah,” she said aloud.

“What would cheer you up?” he asked. His face was so innocent, Clarke almost felt bad for not wanting to talk to him. Dale pulled up on her other side along the dirt road. She felt compelled to speak by his silent gaze.

“I don't know, tell me about anything that doesn't have to do with here,” she said.

“Aren't you curious about how illustrious our lives were before we met you?”

Clarke titled her head to the side. “Yeah, I guess. How did you become Reapers?”

Argo's face fell a little. “Oh, that. Well. Most of my village died of a plague that ran through the Tree Nation when I was young...I was taken in by adopted father, who taught me how to hunt and track. I went through my training and became a full fledged warrior by age fourteen. I stayed with my father and was even planning to get married to a girl I had known most of my life. I had seen when I was ten that she was my soulmate. I wanted to be the very best for her and provide for her. When I was about eighteen years, my father and I went out collecting small game from our snares to bring home. We were ambushed by Mountain Men south of the falls in the bend of the river. They shot the man I considered my father, and I was knocked unconscious. When I woke, I was in a white chamber, strapped to a chair. I was terrified and asked many useless questions. I tried to reason with the strange people who had captured me. But they did not listen, just wrote notes on papers and observed my distress. Then a tall man with white hair and a boy about my age started injecting me with the Red. My memory is spotty after that...and theres' really nothing I care to remember. I lost who I was, what I was, who I cared about. I did terrible things. I met up with Dale at some point after I had been on the Red for some time. They had captured him too, and then turned him loose with me. The first time we returned to the mines, Dale bit his own tongue out so he wouldn't taste the flesh of his family as he ate them."  
Clarke recoiled slightly in disgust. "What?!"  
Argo actually smiled. "A lifetime of gore prepared us to talk about it."  
"You've got to be kidding! He's kidding, right?" She exclaimed, turning to Dale. He frowned and shook his head, jostling the reins of his horse as he shrugged.  
"Wow. Now I think I've heard everything," Clarke groaned.  
"He was captured with them. The Mountain Men gave him the Red and drained his wife and child within days. When they came down the slide, he realized who they were. He didn't want to taste their death."  
"I think I'm gong be sick." Clarke said.

As if on cue, Rippon called for a halt in clipped tones. The horses slowed and the Sun warriors began to pull items from their packs. Clarke joined Argo and Dale in collecting firewood, trying to not imagine what both men had been though. They made a quick meal of leftovers from the festival that were reheated, as well as dried fruits the Sun Clan had brought from the south.

After a brief rest, the warriors saddled up. Clarke could already feel herself getting sore as Dale boosted her back onto Anya's horse. They headed south into the trees, where the forest was more dense. The afternoon sun was hidden behind a canopy of color; red, yellow orange, and green leaves waved in the breeze. Clarke enjoyed the pungent scent of the forest, wishing she could capture the colors of fall. She sighed as her horse plodded onward, trying to put the past out of her thoughts. She didn't talk to Argo or Dale, choosing instead to pull her horse up behind Rippon. He grunted gruffly at her approach, which she decided was a good sign that he might want to talk to her about his motives.

"So why did you decide to leave Polis so quickly?" she asked conversationally.  
Rippon frowned and was silent for a moment. Just when she thought he wouldn't answer, he croaked softly, "My daughter is sick again. I received word yesterday."  
Clarke slowed her horse to stay beside him.  
"I'm sorry, I had no idea. How long has she been sick?"  
Rippon paused again, then slowed to stay beside her.  
"Most of her life. Our _fisa_ , and other healers....they don't know what's wrong."  
"You know my mom is a doctor, right? A healer with access to machines that might help--"    
Rippon's face hardened. "We don't need machines. I should have known you would say this, sky girl," he replied somewhat angrily, but his posture showed his distress. Clarke didn't want to give up on the conversation now. Perhaps the Sun leader might not be a spy after all. She wanted to trust him, especially if she could help. But his defensive reaction showed that this was a topic that bothered him greatly.   
"How old is she?" Clarke asked to ease the tension.  
Rippon fixed his eyes on the ground between his horse's ears. "She is almost 8 years. She should be training to be a warrior, she wants to, but she has--fits. Bouts of shakes....she cannot see or hear. After, she has no memory of recent events. How can she fight like that? She will never pass her training exercises," he said, a slight break in his voice.  
Clarke felt her heart go out to the big warrior. She was sure it would be hard to see that.  
"It could be several things. I might be able to guess just based on her symptoms. My mom or I would have to take a look at her though, maybe I could ask questions about--"  
"You are a healer? I thought you were a warrior? They say you killed many in battle," Rippon said, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he finally turned to look at her.  
"I thought healers can fight too, though? Correct me if I'm wrong," she offered, not wanting to think about the dead.  
"No, you are right. But many of our healers are not trained in combat as they get older. They are...incomplete warriors," he said, trying to find the words.  
"But I wasn't brought up a warrior. I'm actually not that great in a fight, to be honest."  
Rippon furrowed his brow in confusion. "But you destroyed the mountain and became a leader. That is the act of a warrior. They call you Wanheda now, the Commander of Death."  
"Well, I never wanted that title," Clarke replied shortly. The conversation turning toward her issues made her uncomfortable.  
"All the same. You are a _gonfisa_...a healing warrior. You should have many kill scars and tattoos to show this," Rippon replied.  
"I really don't--" she didn't finish the sentence because just then, a cry went up from the rear, where two Sun warriors tumbled from their horses. The party of riders fell into chaos as arrows flew at them from every direction  
"Get down!" Rippon bellowed, followed by a string of curses. Clarke reined her horse to a stop, feeling her heart start to pound as the screams of horses and men surrounded her. Before she had a chance to get out of the saddle, a frightened horse with a dead rider on it's back collided into her own mount.  
For a moment, time seemed to stop as she was knocked from the saddle. Her vision blurred as she lost balance. Her ankle twisted up in the leather stirrup and she fell toward the ground. She flung her hands out to catch herself, and a sickening crunch emitted from her left wrist. With a shriek of pain, she fell free of the saddle and went down flat on her back. Anya's horse--her horse--took off.  
Clarke couldn't breathe, and all she could see was the sky, so blue, between orange and green leaves. The dirt was cold as the grave, and her hearing seemed to be replaced by a high pitched ringing. The ground shook with the thunder of hooves. 

Suddenly, she was dragged upright by a man with a jagged grin and a white, milky eye. He peered at her and pressed a cloth to her mouth. She barely had time to register his blue jacket and yellowed teeth before the world faded to black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I got this up a bit more quickly than I thought, even though it is kind of short. I apologize again for the slow updates, I'm in the process of switching jobs and things are hectic.   
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading and subscribing! I check often and love to see those numbers go up! Please give me feedback, I always check and make sure I reply. It's so great to hear that you love the story!


	13. Sand Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finds herself in an unexpected place. Injured and desperate, she struggles to escape from her captors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, it took forever for this update. I recently got a new job and life has been crazy, but this story is still in development. Enjoy!

Clarke shook herself awake. The first thing she noticed was that she was cold and sore. As her surroundings came into focus, she noticed a second thing: she was not in the forest. She was laying on dry, hard packed sand. The sound of water lapping on rock echoed all around her. She sat up, realizing very quickly that she was in a prison made of rock with metal bars across the front. Her cell contained a small pile of rotted canvas and plastic and a blue barrel spilling out more sand. She felt a sharp pain and remembered what had happened. She had fallen, she knew, off her horse. There was an attack and a strange man with a cloth that smelled sweet and bitter.

She took several breaths at the thought and willed herself to look at her left hand. It was bruised purple and blue behind her middle knuckle. When she tried to touch it, she had to bite back a scream.  
"Broken metacarpals...and possibly phalanges," she recited aloud to calm herself. It seemed to be the worst in her middle two fingers, but it was hard to tell where and which ones were broken because her whole hand felt like it was on fire. Gritting her teeth, Clarke pushed herself to her feet with her good hand.   
She half walked and half stumbled forward to the bars across the front of her prison. Standing with her legs apart and trying to steady her breathing, she held her hand above her head   
"Elevat e the injury above the heart." She told herself. Cold sweat ran into her eyes as she surveyed her surroundings.   
The cavern was dim, but light beyond told her it was mid afternoon. The bars of her cell gave way to sand and scrub grass leading down to the water. Waves slapped noisily over the rocks of the cavern, which was high and vaulted. Brown and clear stalactites hung from the ceiling. The cove seemed to be secluded and only accessible by a small dock. It was probably only made for long boats, Clarke thought, though she she knew little of boats except what she had seen in old movies and in Polis. The beach outside her prison was littered with random debris. Driftwood, barrels, sacks of sand, bits of rope, and concrete seemed to be everywhere. A small dock jutted into the center of the cavern where the water met the beach at the far end of the cove.   
E verything looked abandoned and disused. Clarke could tell the bars were very nearly rusted into the rock floor, making escape almost impossible.   
Groaning in frustration and pain at her predicament, Clarke sank to the ground. She had no idea what had happened to the others. She was certainly the only one here now. In fact, she wasn't even sure how much time had passed since the attack. It had been a little after lunch when they had stopped. The light outside the cavern looked like it was roughly the same time, which meant she had probably only been out a couple hours or a perhaps whole day.

She sighed in frustration. She hoped the others were ok. She couldn't help but blame herself, since it seemed she was the target of the attack. The fact that they captured her alone meant this had to do with the assassination plots. Once news got out, her capture and the death of several Sun Clan members would probably spark anger amongst the Grounder clans. Clarke wished there was something she could do. As she looked around at the solid rock prison, she realized that Lexa probably didn't know she was here. Her Heda wasn't stupid enough to think she was dead. On second thought, few people among her companions, if they survived, would have witnessed her capture in the confusion of battle. Clarke didn't know what had happened or where she was, but someone had brought her here in a boat and let her here for a reason. And whoever they were, they would be coming back to do whatever it was they had in mind to use her for.   
Clarke realized that s ince she seemed to be alone at present, it was probably a good time to search for something to splint her hand with. The hardest part was getting her aching joints to move. Her fall from the horse and subsequent capture had obviously been rough on her body. She felt pain in her ribs, ankles, and shoulders, though nothing seemed to be broken. Or maybe she just couldn't focus on anything other than the pain in her hand, which obviously was at least fractured.   
The pieces of driftwood in her cell might be useful, she thought, but wood could always break. A piece of plastic was a better option, she decided. With a plan in mind, she pulled herself up slowly with her good hand, using the bars as leverage. A wave of dizziness and nausea passed through her. Considering she probably hadn't eaten or drank in about 24 hours, this wasn't surprising. She gritted her teeth and walked to the pile of objects in the left corner of her cell.

Time seemed to crawl as she slowly pulled bits of plastic apart with her good hand. By the end, her fingertips were red and sore from holding the blue plastic under her arm and tearing at it. It was surprisingly brittle and thin, probably from years of exposure to the sea air. When she had a couple good pieces to brace with, she found rope among a pile of of concrete and rusted metal. This too, she had to pull apart, adding rope burn to the list of injuries on her hands. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the chill in the cave, but still she persisted. When she finally had the pieces laid out in front of her on the sand, she stopped to rest with her back to the cave wall, facing the bars of her prison. She breathed in the scent of ocean backwash and hoped she lived long enough for the splint to actually be of use.

Making the splint and fitting it to her hand was even harder than getting the materials for it. She used her knees and good hand to hold the plastic and tie the knots. Her hand was throbbing now, a burning in the bones that were broken, and splinting was a painful process.

By the time she was sure the splint was on tight enough, there was barely enough light left to see by. Sand fleas buzzed around her head and a cloud of them rose every time she moved. Clarke was utterly exhausted, drained by her efforts, and sleep came swiftly. She slumped over from her sitting position onto the cold sand in minutes, her hand resting awkwardly in her lap with the splint tied securely.

 ----------------------

She was woken much later by a loud scraping. As she sat up, wiping tears from her eyes, she saw what had woken her: three burly Grounders physically lifting the barrier in the front of her prison. As the metal gave way and curved inward on its rusted hinges, Luna stepped into the entrance. She wore a doe fur cloak and black leather pants. Her shirt was a mix of metal plates and rings tied on with leather stays and several buckles. She wore soft brown gloves and her hair was done in elaborate braids. Her eyes were dark with warpaint. Twin swords hung at her sides, and her brown boots were streaked white with sea salt. She was dressed for war.

"Ah, so good to see you awake, Clarke," Luna said, removing her deer hide gloves. She idly folded them and put them away in her pocket.

Rage coursing through her, Clarke bit her tongue until she tasted blood.

"You were so vocal two nights ago, surely you have something to say? After all, who couldn't hear your little spat with the Commander?"

"Keep her out of this," Clarke growled in a low voice.

"Oh, but she has everything to do with this, little Skaiprisa," Luna drawled mockingly.

"Is that so?" Clarke responded.

"Absolutely," the Boat leader replied, stepping forward with two of the large guards close behind her. Clarke willed herself to stay still, even as her heart started to pound. There was no running, she knew. She would have to face her demons. The irony of the thought, and the words Wells had said to Charlotte so many months before made her grit her teeth, which Luna somehow mistook.

"Don't smile at me. You'll soon have little to smile about, I assure you." Luna snapped.

Clarke forced herself to smile wider.

With surprising speed, Luna's hand flew to the blonde's throat.

"That smile will be cut from your face when Nia gets here," Luna said through gritted teeth.

Clarke sucked in a deep breath, looking at Luna through slitted eyes. "And you'll be cut to pieces when Lexa finds out you betrayed her."

Luna let go, causing Clarke to sink to the ground with a strangled wheeze.

Luna swept away, throwing one last retort over her shoulder. "That's if she finds me before the assassins find her throat."

Clarke's insides roiled as Luna's guards lowered the barrier with the screech of protesting metal. Their footsteps on the sand faded away, leaving Clarke with nothing but the sound of lapping water as their boat pulled away.

\--------------------------------- 

 Clarke was thirsty. She was also desperate.

Despite her broken hand, she worked slowly the next few days, stopping for rest to conserve energy. Her goal was to make a level from the debris in her cell equal to the force needed to lift the door. She knew it was probably a crazy idea, but she had to have something to occupy her mind. Her materials were limited. She had a few cracked concrete blocks as weights, several wooden beams that were almost rotted through, a few yards of rope, and half of the blue plastic barrel that was probably once used for oil. It was warped and melted in places, but still made a good middle balance when half buried in the sand. She had a sort of teeter-toter set up, with boards on top of the barrel. They were weighed down by concrete on one side and had several ropes snaking through the sand toward the bars at the front of the cell. If she could just attach the ropes and tip the weights, she might be able to spring the door.

It was a hell of a lot harder than it sounded in her head. Clarke was exhausted and her hand was throbbing. The mind numbing pain coursing and tearing through her hand was ever-present. She didn't sleep, instead counting the hours as the sun shone off the water outside the cave, tracking it's movement on the reflection of the cave wall. At night, the moon shone gently on the ripples of the little bay outside her cell door. The salty sea air dried her mouth out. After 2 days, the pounding in her head from dehydration and her weakened state made her worry she wouldn't be able to lift the door even if her make-shift contraption did work. Though she knew it wasn't any good to self diagnose, Clarke was realistic. She was running out of time.

\---------------------------------- 

The sun was setting and she was trying frantically to tie the ropes of her contraption together when she heard a boat bump against the dock outside her cell. She moved slowly and went to the bars, kicking aside the rope. Whoever it was, she didn't want them to know she was planning escape. She grabbed a jagged piece of rusted metal from the pile nearby. It was little defense, but it was better than nothing. Maybe she would stab Luna and hope she died of tetanus, Clarke thought grimly.

To her surprise, Luna wasn't in the shore party. Instead, a thin old man and a young boy were the only ones in the boat. When it halted, the boy alone made the trek towards her cell, carrying a pack on his shoulder. He also carried a torch, which caused the crystals in the walls of the cave to twinkle with each step. When he was a few yards away from the door of her cell, he stopped and set the torch down in the sand, causing his shadow to dance eerily.

He reached into his pack and began pulling objects out. It was hard to see, but Clarke could make out a small stone, some rags, and a couple small vials. He also pulled out two canteens of water and a few items wrapped in packages.

"Hey..." Clarke offered, "what's your name?"

"Jem," he replied after a moment.

"Yeah? I'm Clarke. Listen, I need your help,"

He didn't respond.

"I need to get out of here," she said in a lower voice.

He avoided her eyes and began to crawl forward. Staying out of reach of her knife, he started to poke the items from his pack through the grate of her prison.

"Who sent you to give me these things?"

"I'm not allowed to answer that question," Jem replied.

"Great. Well, who says you can't answer questions?"

"I'm not allowed to answer _that_ question," he stated again, putting extra emphasis on it.

"Did they say you couldn't talk to me?"

"Only if you don't ask the right questions," he answered.

"Ok, fine. I can play that game. Why are they sending me medicine and water? Why is Luna giving me stuff to make fire with?"

Surprised registered on his face.

“Yeah, I know what flint is. Do you think I made it this far on the ground by not knowing?” Clarke said sarcastically. She was a little annoyed that the boy seemed to think she was stupid or unobservant.

"They're sending you water. Food you must earn. The flint isn't for you," Jem recited quickly, looking embarrassed as he sat back on his knees to look at her.

“Well...that's a start. Why do they want me to stay alive?"

"I'm not allowed to answer that question," the boy said.

Clarke groaned. This was going nowhere. She grabbed one of the canteens he had given her and sat down on the cold sand. She uncapped it and let the sweet water fall onto her cracked lips. It was hard to drink slowly, but she stopped when she noticed Jem watching her uncomfortably.

"Why are you staring at me?" Clarke asked suspiciously.

"I have a message for you," Jem said.

"Then spit it out," Clarke said, putting the canteen aside and looking up at the boy. They sat face to face across the bars, but Jem was smart enough to stay far enough away that Clarke couldn't grab him. He looked sheepish as he delivered the message.

"Prepare for pain. The queen awaits to destroy you," he said.

The message delivered, he got to his feet walked away toward the boat, carrying his now empty pack.

“Wait, whjat? Tell me what the hell is going on? Where's the Commander? Where am I? Get back here!” Clarke shouted in frustration. Her words echoed in the cavern but seemed to have no effect.

He had left the flint and rags in the sand several feet away from her cell.

Clarke watched him go with a sense of foreboding. The choice of sending a boy to do Luna and Nia's dirty work was strange and surprising. Forbidding him to speak to her except for certain things made sense, but they were idiots if they thought she wouldn't ask questions. Stranger still, they sent her water and medicine to keep her alive. Whatever that meant, it showed that they wasn't going to rot in her cell. They needed her for something, but whatever it was also seemed to involve pain either way. As she uncorked the vials of salves and antibiotics Jem had left, she contemplated her next move.

Without a doubt, she had to escape tonight. There was no waiting. And if there was one thing her enemy didn't know, it was that Clarke Griffin wasn't the type of person you could keep locked up for long. She had a plan, and their offering gave her the fuel to complete it.

 


	14. Guide Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke escapes her prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience!  
> Just a note, this story is getting kinda close to the end! I'm hoping for maybe 3 more chapters....though I have been doing shorter chapters to update more often, so it might be as many as 5.  
> Anyway, enjoy! Let me know your thoughts about the ending!

Ch. 14

 

The cavern was dark as Clarke finally slid the concrete blocks into place. She had drank a whole canteen of water, but the pounding in her head and stabbing pain in her hand had not lessened. She kicked the weight out from under the concrete with as much energy as she could muster, causing the boards and ropes to create a pulley system. The bars of her cell were dragged upward by the force, emitting a steely groan of protest. With a cry of triumph, Clarke ran toward the door. There was a gap of only about three feet from the sand, which was more than enough for her to slip through. Her coat caught on a sharp edge as she dragged herself through, slicing the material. She didn't care. Spitting sand, Clarke emerged on the other side just as the ropes snapped and the door came crashing down. She took one last look at the prison before shouldering her canteens.

"No one keeps me in a cage," she muttered to herself. She headed toward the dock. There was no boat there, only a small pile of rotted wood. The night was cold and foggy, with a white mist that clung to everything and made it wet. The torch and rags Jem had left were too soaked to use, but there was nothing she could do with them anyway. She spent several minutes pacing the water line, squinting into the dark for some way to escape. The cove was only accessible by boat, and she wasn't a big fan of swimming. She sat down on the cold wood of the dock, weary and frustrated. She had no idea when the next person would come in a boat, or if it would be the boy or Luna or the Ice Queen and their guards. The only route was to swim away, but the water was not only ice cold, it was also treacherous. About the only thing working in her favor was that the tide was low. The water marks on the dock showed that it was at the lowest point right now, and Clarke could just make out the slick tops of several jagged rocks to the left of the cavern. She sat down on the dock, dangling her legs over the side. She was chilled and tired, and all she could think about was Lexa. Where was her soulmate now? Did she know about the attack? Was she searching for her, or did she think she was dead? The questions were always the same and held no answers. Contemplating this, she realized something. If she could recall memories, she might find some insight and maybe some small amount of comfort. She had the Grounder past lives, she just had to _think_ like a Grounder. It only seemed to work when she was alone and the world around her was quiet.

Sitting there in the still of the night, Clarke concentrated, reaching back inside herself to anything from her past lives that might be useful. Her mind drifted and like pushing through dark water, filtering through words and images from her past lives, she found herself in Chaya's mind.

 

//

 

 

The sun was bright as Aliyah stood in the river scrubbing her hair. Her long, brown locks were tangled and messy from days spent in the woods. She wore cotton wrappings over her chest and cargo pants soaked up to mid thigh. Chaya sat on the shore, dirty but unwilling to get in.

"Nothing is going to harm you, you know."

"Basel was eaten by that snake," Chaya said hollowly from Clarke's mouth, "and I couldn't save him. Not what was left of him."

Aliyah's eyes softened as she waded out of the water. Droplets ran like liquid sun across her tan skin, over scars and tattoos. She crouched down to look her soulmate in the eyes.

"There are no snakes here. And besides, if Basel had jumped out of the way, it wouldn't have caught his leg. Rock hopping is a basic training exercise. It teaches balance, patience, and how to listen to your body in tune with your surroundings."

"He panicked. It wasn't his fault."

"I'm not happy about losing him either. He was a good friend and a good guard. But this trip was to train you, to be the best _gonfisa_ you can be. You must know what it takes to be a leader, what it takes to fight for your life."

"I was already on shore."

"But if you hadn't been, you would have jumped."

"I would have fallen in the water. Where I come from, all the water was always frozen..." Chaya sniffed.

"That's no excuse. Come, we'll start now. Climb on those stones." Aliyah commanded.

"Do you want me to bathe? Because I can do that without falling off some rocks into the river." Chaya said, stalling.

"Be serious."

"You're always too serious."

Aliyah pulled Chaya to her feet.

"I'm serious about your survival and your training," the young Heda said, pulling a knife from her belt. She pointed the tip at her finger and held the handle.

"You are both sides of the blade," she said, turning it so it flashed in the sun. "You heal those close to death, and you fight when needed, taking life. That requires discipline. It's serious to me. I don't want you to end up in a situation when you are hurt or killed because of what you haven't been taught. Now let's work on rock jumping."

Chaya took a deep breath. Trying to reason with her Heda was pointless. She thought learning to rock jump was silly, but she climbed up on the rocks anyway. A line of several boulders along the shore looked good enough for jumping.

Aliyah waded into the water.

"I'll catch you if you fall, but I don't think it will come to that. It's very simple. First, plan your route. See which rocks are big enough or flat enough to stand on. Judge the distance between each route. Next, jump with the right amount of force. Too much and you may stumble when you land, which can hurt your ankles. Too little and you won't make it; you might even fall backward. Third, execute the jump. Lean forward, use your arms as balance if you need, but don't flail around. Use your whole body, and stay tense in the air to get the most of out of the jump. Lastly, land properly. Lean forward slightly, put your hands out if you need, and go into a crouch. Distribute your weight evenly."

"But Aliyah, what if the rocks are wet or they move or--"

"Don't worry about that. Just keep moving. If the rock moves, jump away from it as fast as you can, or stop and stay still. If there are plants or leaves or the rocks are wet, go slowly, and climb if you need to on your butt and elbows. Unless you are being chased, you have all the time you need to make it."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Chaya muttered.

She looked around. The rocks curved away to the left along the riverbank. Some had small trees growing around and in them, others had driftwood and piles of leaves between them. She decided to avoid those. The tall rocks also weren't easy to jump; she didn't have to strength to lift herself over them. The rocks closest to the water were mostly flat and worn by years of weather and high water, but some also had treacherous holes bored in by the currents of river water. She lined up her first leap, a short one from two rocks of equal height. She came down solidly and gathered herself. The next rock was lower and farther away, with a small eddy of water in the way.

"Proper momentum, and don't flail your arms," Aliyah reminded her from the water, watching her.

Taking a deep breath, Chaya jumped...

 

//

Clarke was jerked from her flashback rather abruptly. A light was shining toward her from the water. As her eyes refocused, she saw a ship off the shore. The light was that of several lanterns bobbing on the deck.

"Shit!" Clarke cried, jumping to her feet. There was no waiting now. She was going to have to jump the rocks like she was being chased. Luckily, the low tide bought her some time, but not much.

The dark ocean flew up in white waves as she reached the rocks. This wasn't at all like the river. Barnacles and slime covered each rock along the bottom of the cliff face.

"Great," Clarke muttered darkly. "Don't fail me now, Chaya."

She shouldered the canteens, tying them together so they wouldn't fly off her, and looped them over her shoulders so one was on each of her sides. Though one was empty and the other was full, she didn't want them to throw her off balance.

Clarke lined up her first jump, her heart pounding. The rock was a little below her to the left, and had just enough surface area to land on. Before she knew it, Clarke had launched herself through the air. A rush of fear, and she landed, crouching to steady herself. She flung her hand out to lean against the cliff, readying herself for her next jump. Her boots slipped slightly on seaweed around her feet, but she pushed herself to keep going. She had to.

It took what seemed like ages to cross several rocks. Worse, as she made her way along, the tide started to rise. The cliff to her left ended, and a mess of tumbled rocks lay between her and a sandy shoal beyond. The thin light of a half moon barely revealed her path, and some of the rocks were already covered in the white spray of the incoming tide. Panicking, Clarke continued to jump, sometimes clumsily in her exhaustion and fear. Adrenaline was all that kept her going. Glancing behind her, she saw a small boat being lowered from the ship, with several lanterns inside. She couldn't make out who was in it, but she had a feeling it was her captors. She only hoped that if she couldn't see them, they couldn't see her.

As she neared a large black rock, she heard voices drifting from the cave mouth behind her. The tide rushed in around her ankles as she crouched behind the stone.

"Where is she?!" Luna cried in surprise.

"She's gone!" squealed Jem's high voice.

"Open it. I want to see." A cold voice commanded. Clarke could hear Luna berating Jem, who was sobbing that it wasn't his fault. The words were lost in the sound of the surf.

Clarke began to creep across the last of the slippery rocks, lowering herself slowly so as not to hurt her broken hand. The water was rising around her and she felt true fear. Her past lives could help with her inability to swim, if only she could concentrate. But then she heard a shout from behind her.

"Comb the shore and the cliffs. I want her found! She can't be far." The cold and angry voice shouted. Clarke was sure it was Nia, and she knew she had to get away.

When her feet contacted with dry land, Clarke let out a sigh of relief. She was soaked and freezing, in pain and starving, but she was out of the ocean. She squinted through the dark, seeing sand in two directions and a dark line of trees. It took her only a moment to decide her course of action.

If Luna and Nia were pursuing her, the sand would be more likely to conceal her steps if she walked along the water. Taking a risk in the woods, with its broken branches and mud, was not something Clarke wanted to do.

She moved to her right, along the beach away from her prison and the lights of the ship. She walked close to the water, her feet freezing, the sloshing of the waves concealing her path.

But determination could only get her so far. Her head felt fuzzy with pain and exhaustion, and her balance was shaky at best. Not even her past lives could save her from the ordeals she had been through. She angled her way toward the woods above a bluff. Just one more step, she kept whispering to herself. She collapsed in a thicket beside a large sandy outcropping, sleep taking her away at last.

 


	15. What You do to Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke flees from her prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone...sorry it's been so long yet again. Between work, the holidays, some deaths among my extended group of friends, some birthdays, and my mom being in surgery in the middle of a snowstorm, its been tough to find the time to write. But with the 100 returning for season 3, I still really wanted to finish this story soon. There should only be one chapter after this, and maybe an epilogue. Thank you for reading!

Cassandra chased her lover through the dark, in a wild sprint on horseback. Burned trees flashed by, followed by torches in the night. They sought the mountain, the mountain where the former world still rested...or at least, they hoped.

But the man who once appeared on TV and on the international stage was a tired old man, and his young son stood beside them. They called it Dante's Inferno, after the father and son's names. And that man, who still held the title of President, turned his back on Alina, refused aid to the people hiding in the subways from radiation and worse. And she vowed they would be enemies, screaming into the night as the mountain slammed shut, never to open again.

“We are the only leaders now,” Clarke's mouth said, “just us...in this world...”

Her vision blurred as she opened her eyes. A figure that was not Alina stood over her.

“Get up! Get up!”

“Wha-what?” Clarke blinked back tears.

She found herself held down in the dirt, a hand over her mouth.

“You are lucky I found you, and not someone worse,” the woman whispered frantically.

Clarke felt panic creep into her chest. The night was dark, and she realized she must have slept for a few hours at most.

“I am Echo. You know me?”

Echo's face reflected Clarke's own anxiety. In the distance, Clarke could see fires along the beaches and figures moving in front of them. The patrol, the hunt, was on.

Clarke nodded slightly. Echo let her go and she rolled over in the dirt, taking a moment to gather herself.

“You must run. I will distract them,” the Azgeda warrior whispered.

“You're helping me?” Clarke questioned, somewhat stupidly.

“Do not mistake my intentions. I'm only doing this because of Belomi,” Echo warned.

Clarke nodded again, and the warrior helped her off the ground. She remembered that this woman had been a prisoner of the mountain. That would explain why she was willing to help a runway and the person who had liberated them all.

The tall thicket around them sheltered them from prying eyes, but she could hear shouts nearby.

“What now?” she asked desperately, fear itching under her skin.

“You run. Go due north, and then keep the moon at your front as it goes down. You must cross the bridge to Polis, near the bay.”

“I don't even know where I am. What if they catch me?”

“Do not let that happen,” Echo warned as she pressed the hilt of a dagger into the blonde's hands. Clarke blinked, her hand running over the familiar texture. It was hers, the one she was nearly killed by at the hands of the assassin.

Clarke looked into Echo's eyes. She could only guess at the woman's motives. She only knew Bellamy had mentioned her on the walk back from the ruins of the mountain.

“Is he...?” Clarke began.

“He is well. In the mountain, he strangled a man with his bare hands before my very eyes. I only hope you are as strong as he.”

Clarke reached forward and grabbed Echo's arm as she exited the thicket.

“May we meet again.”

Echo only nodded at her, then disappeared into the night.

Clarke took a deep breath and counted to twenty. Shouts echoed around her, some of them very close. She knew very little about the Azgeda language, but she could tell that something was drawing them off.

She slipped out of the thicket, and found herself running along the beach. Each footfall felt like lead in the sand, and she moved to the wood's edge to get traction. She kept the strip of sand in sight, always on her right, making her way north, back toward Polis. She questioned Echo's motives, but not her logic. Lexa was in Polis, and Lexa was safety. Clarke had to get to her somehow.

Unfortunately, even a few hours of rest weren’t enough for her. She stopped once to drink and refill her canteen from a dark creek that ran into the ocean. The cold water was the sweetest thing she had tasted since the ground, except maybe Lexa's mouth. Clarke relaxed for a second, her muscles burning and her chest tight.

But reprieve was short lived. Nearby, perhaps thirty yards through the trees, a fire blazed to life. Unsure if it was friend or foe, Clarke crouched low in response.

As she crept closer, trying desperately not to make any noise, she heard two sleepy voices talking.

Clarke reached around her until her fingertips met with a heavy branch. She tried to slow her beating heart and the panic that threatened to engulf her. They couldn't see her, and seemed to be unaware of her presence. She pressed herself against a nearby tree, clutching the makeshift club.

The men were preparing to sleep, the embers of their fire dying down. Clarke watched, tense with anticipation as they rolled out their furs and set aside their weapons. Clarke noted the packs that they used as pillows. Her stomach growled slightly. She needed their supplies, and she was willing to do just about anything to get them. Clarke hoped she could take them unawares, if she was patient.

The moments crept by, and she made herself comfortable in the arms of the tree. The men had no doubt been searching for her all night and were exhausted. Though she could only catch snippets of their conversation, she heard the words “Queen” and “Sky girl” and “Hunt” more times than she cared to. Clarke suddenly wondered what had become of Echo, and more so, why she cared. The dagger would be useful, but Clarke's stomach turned at the thought of killing the men. They were just pawns, following orders like pieces in a chess game. If she could knock them out with the club, she would feel a lot better.

She nearly dozed off herself waiting for the snores to drift through the trees to where she sat. The men, it seemed, had arranged for one to sleep while the other kept watch. The first grounder sat by the fire, shifting the logs to one side, against the wind. Then he leaned back, his glittering eyes the only indicator that he was not asleep. Clarke ducked back behind the tree. She would have to be very careful.

The night was quiet, with only a gentle breeze stirring the air. Clarke prayed she wouldn't step on any sticks as she crept around the clearing. She emerged from the trees behind the man. She hefted the club and swung at the right side of his head, the muscles in her arms crying out in protest. He slumped, stunned, and landed with one cheek in the dirt. Clarke spun as the man in the furs stirred, and quickly crossed to where he lay. He was just starting to stir at the commotion, and Clarke knew she had to act fast. She aimed for where she assumed his head was, bringing the club down on the furs. He cried out once, then fell silent. Panting, Clarke checked the pulse of the first man. She could hardly detect his blood flow with her fingers, but it was there.

The second man, however, she had hit a little harder than intended. She recoiled when she pulled back his furs. Tears threatened to engulf her as she stumbled back away from the fire. She had killed him and he never even knew, his blood pooling around his head. She crouched down, her head between her legs, and struggled to keep from crying out. Nausea crept into her stomach, but she knew she needed their supplies.

She grabbed a pack off the ground, but it was impossible to see what was in it in the dark. She considered taking his sword, but realized it would be too heavy and she probably couldn't use it anyway. She sincerely wished she had taken some grounder training like Octavia when they were in Camp Jaha. She wished, not for the first time, that she had her gun, even if she probably didn't need to use it. Her hand ached and her stomach still felt queasy as left the little campsite, heading back toward the water.

On the shore, she tried to take deep breaths to calm down. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she had done what needed to be done to survive. She knew she was helpless out here. Her only hope was to get back to Polis as soon as possible. She walked, rummaging in the pack for anything that might be edible. There was only a half moon to light her way, but she nearly moaned when she finally got her hands on some dried meat, enough for a few days. She tried not to eat quickly, but she felt confident at last that she could make it back. With the pack hanging over her shoulder, she grabbed food with her good hand until she was sated.

Unfortunately, the food also made her feel sluggish and sleepy. She headed back into the trees, trying to decide what to do. The night made it harder to see her enemies, but also harder for them to see her. They were much better at tracking than even Finn, and the campsite she had visited would be a clear trail. She entered the woods, intending to zigzag back and forth to leave a confusing trail. Soon she realized that she had actually just gotten herself lost, and the sound of the waves no longer reached her ears. The sun began to creep through the trees, and Clarke began to worry. She had to find somewhere to hide or risk being caught. She knew the Azgeda were still hunting her. Every strange bird call made her jumpy, and the woods seemed even more threatening than when she first got to the ground. She couldn't detect any familiar landmarks, and wondered how far they had taken her when she was ambushed. Fall had set in and the landscape was completely different. Though the leaves softened her footsteps and dulled her trail, she knew she wasn't safe.

The sunrise, however, reminded her of Echo's words. She turned herself with her back to the sun, and more or less ran through the woods, heedless of snapping twigs. The woods, however, turned into swampland, and Clarke was forced to go around. She estimated that she had gone about 8 miles from when her feet began to hurt. She drank the last bit of water from her canteens, but all the water she found near the marshes was brackish. She kept her head down as she emerged on the other side of the swamp.

Below her lay a bridge that had survived the war and weather, the bridge back to the mainland. Its metal tines were rusted and crumbled in some places, but there was activity there. Grounders patrolled and guarded the bridge, and a village was nestled in the arms of the bay.

“Wadakru,” Clarke breathed to herself. There was no way to get across without being spotted. She sat down on a rock, taking deep breaths. She was alone and lost, stuck on some part of what used to be Maryland, and now she knew she needed a disguise. Her blonde hair stood out like a sore thumb in every crowd of Grounders. She went back to a nearby creek.

She thought of Anya, all those weeks ago, and how they concealed themselves when running away from the mountain men. She dropped her bags and crouched on a rock. With her good hand, she swirled some lighter colored mud from the creek, picking out and bits of leaf or rocks, making it into a paste. She flipped the mud patty over, mixing in more water until it was a good consistency. She reached up and then took her down her braids, smoothing and parting them into a different style. She thought of Didi's hands and was glad they were so well done, even if the girl was a spy. They kept her hair off her face so she was not constantly annoyed by the greasy tendrils that had fallen out.

Now she reached up and spread the mud through her hair, adding water until it ran down the collar of her jacket. She cursed herself for not grabbing clothes off the men from the camp, but after what happened, just the pack of supplies had been bad enough. She would need something to her cover her face, but she hoped for now that the mud would dull her hair. She tried to make it look natural, checking her reflection in the water. The red clay so common in this part of the world made it take on a red hue, but Clarke was satisfied as she washed any stray bits of mud form her face. She grabbed some dirt to pat onto her face, hoping to make it appear more Grounder-like.

Next, she sat on a rock, and pulled the animal hide pack to her. She flipped open the rabbit skin opening and rummaged inside. She nearly cried when she found a small pot of war paint inside. It wasn't the gift from Lexa, but it would do. She leaned back toward the water, smearing it on in a completely random pattern, not at all like the one she wore in Polis. When she was done, she looked through the pack further, finding rope, a small coin purse, flint and steel, more food, and several other odds and ends. Once she had nothing further to do, she finally got up and willed herself to start down the path toward the town.

Clarke lowered her head, watching her footing on the path. Her brain rattled with lies she would tell if questioned, and her gut twisted in fear. 

It took about 45 minutes for her to get the courage to leave the safety of the trees and head toward the coastal town. Worse, by the time she did, the clouds had rolled in and it started to drizzle. The Grounders roaming around seemed to be just ordinary farmers, however. As she got closer, she realized that all the guards were in the woods, hunting her. She had to do her best to blend in. 

She received little notice as she walked in. The village was small, but no one questioned her as she entered the palisade surrounding the huts and tents. She kept pace with the stream of people, trying hard not to tense and stare, but her eyes constantly darted around, assessing every possible sign of trouble. No one spoke to her as she reached a small square full of market stalls and tents. She noticed the Ice Nation banner beside several open tables, denoting the recent alliance between the Wadakru and the northern clans. 

The rain began to come down harder and the stalls began to lower their fronts. People grumbled on their way to wherever they were going. Clarke felt something on her shoulder and realized with horror the rain was going to wash the red-brown mud she had so carefully applied out of her hair. 

"Excuse me!" Clarke cried, running to a nearby stall. Bits of cloth, hide, and armor were carefully set up, but the old woman running it shooed her away. "We're closing!" She snapped irritably back in Trigedaslang. "The rain will ruin everything!" 

Frantically, Clarke began pulling down nearby cloaks, getting them under the eaves of the hide tent. 

"Look, I'll help, but can I buy one of these? I need a cloak." 

The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously, pausing to put down the roll of blue fabric she was carrying. Her eyes fixed on the pack Clarke had set down by the tent entrance. 

"Who are you? Are you Azgeda? What are you doing here?"

Clarke swallowed hard.

"Listen, I'm just trying to help, but I really do need a cloak. I'm headed back to Polis and-" 

"Polis?!" The woman said in surprise. "Polis has closed the bridge across the bay. Blockade. Some are saying its bad news, with the Ice Nation poking around, taking all our guards into the woods...why are you here?"

"I was on a mission for Luna," Clarke lied, "Are the ports closed too?"

The woman tilted her head, as if assessing Clarke.

"Well, yes, the official ports. You may be able to get a boat to drop you off just south of Polis. But won't you wait for Luna to return?"

"No. I've already reported to her. I'll ask at the docks, I suppose."

She turned to leave, wanting to escape the woman's scrutiny. She realized she had made a mistake even speaking to the woman.

"Wait, wait, didn't you still need a cloak? It's pouring and none of the boats will be going anywhere in the storm."

As if on cue, thunder cracked loudly overhead, and wind caused the sides of the tent to snap and wave.

"No, I'm fine, really, I have to go."

"Wait," she held up a plain black cloak with a hood. “If you got the Hedas, you really should have a cloak."

Clarke frowned, knowing that her hair was going to be much more obvious if it got wet. 

She reached slowly into her pocket and pulled out the small change purse she had gotten from the pack.

"I'm only a scout, a soldier. Would three Hedas be enough?"

The woman sighed and reached out her hand, still clutching the cloak. 

“That’s fine,” she said.

Clarke pulled out the coins slowly and gave them to the woman.

"Thank you," she replied, throwing the cloak quickly over her shoulders and the backpack, making sure to cover her hair with the hood. 

The woman nodded. "Go on girl, before my goods get ruined."

Clarke stepped out into the rain, ducking her head against the wind. She guessed that the docks were on the west side of town and hurried that way. As the mud splattered her clothes and leaked into her shoes, she gritted her teeth and tried to think of a plan. She could sneak onto a ship, but she would need to get to Polis specifically. She wondered if she could steal a rowboat, but she had no idea how to get across the bay in a storm. None of her past lives had been Wadakru and most of the time, she had her Heda around to sail with in Polis. She sighed, her breath fogging in the air. She had to get back to Lexa.

Reaching the docks, she saw the ships anchored and ducked out of sight. The ship she had seen back at her prison cove was there, and seemed to be weighing anchor. Behind a tanning rack, Clarke watched the sailors setting up, realizing that if she was going to escape, it had to be soon.

Luna and another woman with white war paint on her face emerged from below deck, and Clarke sucked in her breath. Nia and Luna walked down the gangplank, and seemed to be in an argument. Clarke realized that they were going to walk right past her hiding place too late. She could hear snippets of their conversation. 

“If she’s in the north shore…we can’t find...Polis,” Luna pleaded.

“No...we cannot risk…she will...Heda…” Nia stated firmly. 

Clarke inched closer around the corner of a building, following them down the street. Several guards followed them, swords at their sides. 

Then Clarke saw someone emerge from a nearby hut, a blue cloak around her shoulders. The group stopped, and began speaking in low voices. 

Clarke gasped as she peered out. The woman from the clothes stall was telling them everything!

Clarke ran, away from the scene, hoping to get back to the woods. Hell, she would rather swim across the damn bay if…

She slammed into a solid mass, a huge man with a blacksmith’s apron. 

“My wife told me about the girl who killed me son and took his belongings…it’s nice to meet you, Wanheda.”

He grabbed her and spun her around, ripping the pack and cloak from her. He roughly shoved a strip of leather in her mouth and pushed her from behind, wrapping his thick arms around her throat. She thrashed around wildly as he dragged her into the street. 

“There she is!”

“Do not harm her, oaf!”

“Bring her here!”

Voices, shouting, and rain filled her senses. She kicked and clawed at the man holding her, pain shooting through her broken hand, but soon it was too late. 

She held still as Nia came up to her. 

“Well done. We appreciate your help in capturing this fugitive. She should be brought to my ship immediately.”

“We will call off the search and bring the guards home. We’ll have a funeral for your son when the weather clears,” Luna promised, and the blacksmith holding her grunted.

Nia approached Clarke, her piercing blue-grey eyes boring into her.

“So good to finally meet you, Clarke of the Sky People. You will burn for what you have done this day. And I will take your power.” 


	16. Here at the End of All Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finally sees and end to her journey.

She had no chance to speak or fight back.

She was passed to Nia’s burly, white faced guards, and bodily carried toward the ship. She caught the faces of the blacksmith and the clothing woman, and the look of shame as gold clinked into their palms was hollow and ridden with guilt. Clarke felt betrayal in a way that stung even more than Lexa walking away.

The rain pelted down on her as the group moved her to the ship. The leather in her mouth tasted sour and salty. The opening to the lower desk of the ship yawned before her as the little boats bobbed in the storm on the harbor.

“Throw her in the brig. We sail when the weather clears,” Luna ordered. Sailors ran this way and that, throwing out the line for the ship and prepping the sails.

She was dragged down into the fishy smelling hull of the ship, where a metal cage stood open for her. Luna followed the guards who carried her, barking orders the whole way.

“Two guards will watch her at all times. And lock her in the shackles, she's already gotten away once. Keep her gagged.”

The guards acknowledged quickly and did as they were told. Clarke was dragged roughly to the wooden side of the cell and the cold irons clapped over her wrists. She thought of twenty curses in her head as they hobbled her feet as well. Luna looked on with a pleased look. When she was sure Clarke was helpless, she moved past the guards and stared into the eyes of Wanheda.

“Don't worry, Clarke, its only temporary. Once Nia takes your power, I'll be there for Lexa, just like last time. I can...comfort her...the way she used to let me.”

Clarke eyes widened. Though Luna had hinted at her motives before, it seemed she was slipping up now that she thought she was so close to getting Clarke out of the way.

“Oh yes, after Costia's death, she was quite inconsolable...I have no doubt that this time, she will be more likely to need my presence to...relieve her grief,” Luna insulated, her eyes far away. She was practically drooling over the thought of getting close to Lexa again. Clarke felt her stomach turn, and was so appalled she strained against her bonds, trying to headbutt Luna in her smug face.

The leader of the Boat People turned and headed toward the stairs to the upper deck.

“I'll leave you to think about all the things that will be happening...after your death,” she called over her shoulder.

Clarke thought of more curses as the trapdoor closed.

 

****

 

She had no sense of time, only of the movement of the ship and lurching of her stomach. She retched what contents of her stomach were left until the leather rag fell from her mouth. She was too weak to speak anyway. The constant heaving of the ship, the lack of blood flow to her extremities, and a burning thirst caused her to slip in and out of consciousness. Her head bobbed against her chest and all she could do was groan softly. She was also sitting in several inches of saltwater that was trickling in through the gaps in the ship. The water was putrid with the smell of discarded food, dead fish, and human waste. Several times, dead rats floated past, their white eyes staring into the void. Clarke welcomed her blackouts then, so she did not have to experience her captivity anymore.

It could have been hours, or maybe a day, until they finally dragged her from the cell. She was shivering from the wet and the dampness of the lower deck. As the blood began to flow back into her limbs, however, she hissed with pain. The bright sun burned her eyes and she was thankful she was being carried, however roughly. She was splashed with hot, fresh water and her head dunked in a bucket, washing away what was left of her muddy disguise. Her nostrils filled with water and her ears were clogged, causing a whooshing sound to fill her head.

The blood flowing back into her broken hand caused tears to spring to her eyes, but she refused to wimper. A hot, herbal drink was poured down her throat, no doubt to prolong her life. She was sickly and weak, but Nia certainly didn't want her to expire before she could take her soul.

Still dazed, Clarke was found herself strapped to a pallet and loaded onto a covered wagon. She couldn't see a thing except the sunlight peeking through gaps in the cloth cover of the wagon. The murmur of voices, the snorts of horses, and the clink of armor combined with the rattle and bump of the cart's groaning path. Clarke's eyes closed and a certain peace took hold, no doubt inspired by whatever drink she had been given.

Clarke's mind wandered to days spent in the woods as a little girl. A little girl who was not her, a bright child named Chloe. Clarke could see her through her eyes as she was chasing Ally, who had stolen her ball.

_So innocent_ , Clarke thought.

_None of us is innocent_ , whispered the tendrils of her mind, but Clarke ignored it.

She couldn't ignore the black blood on her Ally's knees when she fell, or the tears that she held back fiercely. She couldn’t ignore the strange man with the runes on his head who took Ally away to the Conclave after their long journey to Polis.

_Polis will change the way you think about us._

It always did.

Polis. Polaris.

Lexa. Her _keryon mounon_.

 

******

 

Clarke came to when the sunlight shone in her eyes. Panic took over as she realized she was tied, tightly, with rope. She looked up, seeing trees, sky...and a pole wrapped in sharp metal wire.

“Shit,” Clarke mumbled, her tonnage thick. She began to move, trying to thrash in her bonds. Her hand caught the sharp edge of the metal wire, and she hissed.

There was no one in sight, so Clarke began to try to move the rope against the sharp edge of metal near her hand, desperate and panicked. To her left, there was a whooshing sound, and an arrow whizzed past her ear. On her right, another followed. And then another, flaming, arching across the clearing she was in. It landed square in the middle of a Trikru banner laying on the ground nearby. Black smoke filled the air as the flames caught a pile of brush under the flag.

Clarke realized where she was.

TonDC.

She whipped her head around, confused. How could she be on the same pole where Gustus died? It shouldn’t be, it burned, surely, shattered to splinters. It must be new. But where were the people? Rubble littered the landscape, hidden under fallen leaves and dirty snow. Her mind was confused, and yet everything was familiar.

And then, out of the smoke, Nia came toward her. Her lizard-like headdress and heavy furs parted the smoke from the brush pile that was burning wildly in a nearby shell hole.

“What is this?” Clarke demanded, thankful that for the moment, the smoke was blowing away from her.

“I thought you might want your soul to burn as so many did for you. My own generals gave their lives here for your war crimes,” Nia said with an edge to her voice.

“I did it for my people. You only care about your own selfish ends,” Clarke spat.

“That may be true, but at least I'm not the one pretending I'm the hero. To see you humbled, to see you as you truly are, is all I need before I kill you,” Nia proclaimed, close enough now that she pulled out a knife and pointed it to Clarke's throat.

Past her, through the trees, Clarke saw something shinning, momentarily distracting her. It skipped over the ground beyond the Ice Queen's shoulder, once, three times, once...Nia didn't notice the Morse code. A mirror flashing in the mid day sun was sending her a message. Clarke struggled to understand.

Someone was out there, someone knew Clarke was in danger. And Nia didn't seem to care that they were coming.

Something was wrong.

Nia held the tip of her dagger steady at Clarke's chin, a glint of madness in her eyes.

"I could drive this blade into your brain right now." Nia taunted.

Clarke gritted her teeth. "Then do it. Take all the souls from me, and the title with it," Clarke challenged. "I have taken the lives of people I loved, people I cared about, and the souls of my greatest enemies. I would gladly take yours, if you cut me down from here." She was bluffing now, trying to keep it together long enough for the person who was signaling her to get there.

Nia laughed, a harsh and unusual sound. "You are brave, Klark. Brave and foolish. You couldn't even hold a blade steady with that hand. You're half starved and weak. No, my fight isn't with you. Don't you see? You will bring the true hunter straight to me!"

In one swift motion, she ran get blade down Clarke's arm, opening a gushing wound that dripped into an earthen bowl at her feet.

"I will drink your blood, Wanheda, and take everything from your soulmate."

Clarke's eye grew wide.

"You can't our souls, you psychotic bitch!" Clarke screamed, her pain and agony echoing through the trees. If Nia wanted Lexa, Clarke would make damn sure she was loud enough to be found.

She didn't expect the punch straight to the right side of her face, nor the slash of the blade across her other arm. She cried out in pain, her head slumping forward.

"You will not question my power!" Nia shouted.

It was Clarke's turn to wheeze out a laugh, the ropes around her chest squeezing her lungs even as she sawed them away behind her back.

She lifted her head to look at Nia, and then saw past her shoulder.

"Your power ends today," she pronounced.

The Ice Queen merely smiled.

“LEXA! It's a trap!” Clarke screamed, just as her soulmate came crashing down from the trees.

She landed on her feet like a cat, her coat and sash billowing around her. The look on her face was terrifying to behold.

“Don't touch her. _Jomp em op en yu jomp ai op_. This is the last time I will tolerate your treason, Nia. This ends now!”

“Gladly. All the pawns have fallen into place to bring you to me. We will settle this the way we should have when you first took command. I have my own Nightblood now, and she will gladly replace you in line!” the Ice Queen said calmly.

Clarke struggled in her bonds as she watched them circle each other, trying to process the implications of Nia's words. The Soul would pass on if Lexa were to die, and that wasn't going to be ok. She had to do something...anything. Lexa was going to get hurt, and Clarke wasn't going to watch. The ropes she had managed to loosen were still too sturdy to get out of, but Clarke managed to catch them on some barbed wire among the blood on the pole.

Lexa, meanwhile, was full of seething anger, a dangerous beast on the prowl. Clarke know this was not like her, but just this once, Lexa allowed emotion to take over. Her blood was pounding with the hatred she felt for the woman determined to take everything she loved from her. Her soulmate was hers to defend, and this time she would not fail. This time, her eyes were clear. Clarke was hurt at the hands of Lexa's greatest enemy, and there was no reason to hold back now. Political ramifications be damned, Lexa planned to lay low the Ice Queen in whatever way she could, even if it meant giving herself up in the process.

“You were always too headstrong, Alexandria. Such a cocky little thing, from the moment you came before The Conclave. That ends today,” Nia said quietly. She was calm, collected, and deadly. She had not even drawn her weapon.

Lexa looked like a child next to the imposing figure of the Queen, her elder, who's steely blue eyes held more years of experience. As Clarke watched, pulling at her bindings, she felt true fear. Whatever may have happened between her and Lexa in the past, Clarke was afraid of losing her Heda more than anything. She was fiercely protective of anyone she considered to be her own, and Lexa was hers. The ropes around her wrists were down to threads, but she was still struggling when the steely ring of swords echoed in the clearing.

Nia stood still, and Lexa crouched, her sword thrust upward as if to surprise. Nia shook her head and parried, pushing Lexa back. Blow after blow, they moved around the clearing, each testing the other, kicking up clouds of dead leaves. Neither showed any sign of tiring. Clarke has stopped her movement as she got closer, trying not to be conspicuous.

“You're not even trying,” Lexa accused, “Fight me like you mean it!”

“Why should I do that? I would rather see you suffer!”

Nia spun toward Clarke then, cutting her down from the pole in the process. Clarke felt the blood blossoming across her arms as she crashed into the damp ground. The wounds weren't deep, but she was weak, so weak, from days of starvation, dehydration, and pain. She lay there, unable to move.

Lexa's fury was beyond words. She growled, slashing at Nia's back, circling her again, closing in with ever closer flicks of her blade. Her speed was furious, and Nia was hard pressed to keep up.

A light shown in the older woman's eyes.

“That's it! Fight me like you truly can!”

“You took everything from me. I will not let you do so...again!” Lexa cried, slashing and ducking, making contact with Nia's sword arm. The Ice Queen staggered back, nursing her wound and swapping hands.

Clarke lay in the dirt, the world sideways in her vision. The fight raged on, the clash of swords rang in her ears, and yet she felt far away, stuck in her past lives running through her head. How many times had Lexa fought for her? How many times had she walked away? Enough, it was enough.

With great effort, she managed to untangle her hands from the leftover rope and sit up.

Nia had Lexa backed against a tree, their swords locked in a stalemate. Lexa's face was covered in Nia's red blood, mixed with her own night black blood. In the sunlight, Clarke couldn't help but find her beautiful even as she feared for her soulmate's life.

As she struggled to stand, Lexa pushed Nia back. She felt to the ground, not far from Clarke. Her weapon lay between Clarke and Lexa. With a cry of pain, Nia launched herself toward her sword, only to have Lexa slice the back of her knees. Howling in pain, she writhed on the ground, even as Clarke picked up her weapon.

“Lexa...”

“She dies today, Clarke. Jus drein, jus draun.”

“If you kill her, her soul returns to the Ether.”

Lexa stared at her keryon mounon, her sword tip at Nia's throat. Her eyes narrowed in anger, but she clearly considered Clarke's words.

“May she stay there forever. Her soul has done enough damage,” Lexa cursed.

“NO!”

Lexa swung her sword, sending the Ice Queen's head rolling into the fire pit. The smelled of charred flesh hit Clarke's nose like a punch in the face.

“Why...why...” Clarke choked, as Lexa dragged her away from the clearing.

“It's over, Clarke. I have avenged Costia, and you,” Lexa whispered, smoothing Clarke's golden hair.

The trees sheltered them as they walked away, leaving the fire and remains behind them.

Clarke weaved her good hand into Lexa's thick brown hair. Even with a foggy brain, her eyes narrowed at the small bump on the back of Lexa's neck. She knew, from her past, what it was. It was her soul, her life, her memories. But the part of her that was Clarke new better. It was more than it seemed.

“Where...where are we going?”

“We must get back to Polis. Argo and Dale will meet us. We have to hurry.”

Clarke pulled away stomping through the leaves.

“No. We have to get back to Camp Jaha...Arkadia. With Nia dead, they're vulnerable. Her people will see it as an act of war. And Luna will side with them.”

“That's why I need you in Polis. She dishonored her people by capturing you. When the others see what she did, they will know why she had to die.”  
“But she didn't! You killed her for your own revenge!”

“She had to die, Clarke,” Lexa stated firmly.

“Then you should have banished her! Not this...not like this.”  
She searched Lexa's face for any trace of remorse or understanding.

Lexa cast her eyes down.

“Clarke...” she swallowed hard before continuing, “you are hurt. You aren't thinking. We must go.”

Clarke could see the concern on Lexa's face. She didn't feel right, executing the Ice Queen in TonDC, with no one else to witness. It felt like lying, again.

“You want me to the an ambassador,” Clarke surmised.

Lexa nodded.

“Protect your people from the Capitol. Join my coalition before the eyes of men and the Goddess,” she asked.

“I'll consider it, Commander.”  
They both smiled then, a moment when finally everything felt right.   
When they kissed this time, Clarke felt like a weight was lifted from her. She knew that Lexa would help her protect what was dear to her, at any cost.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's pretty much it guys. There will be an epilogue, so stay tuned!   
> I know it took me months to update, but luckily my story meshed really well with the canon stuff we learned from season 3, so I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out!   
> Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you would like to see in the epilogue ;)


End file.
